


Perfect

by silver_shadowstorm



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-13 11:16:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 42,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5705686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_shadowstorm/pseuds/silver_shadowstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After realizing a few things about herself, Grell decides to change things for the better. In doing so, she embarks into new and surprising possibilities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Resolution

Grell lay on her plush bed, arms behind her neck and covered to the waist in thick red blankets. She had been thinking. Thinking about herself and her life. It was definitely not as she expected, but then again, it never was like that for anyone.

Sure, her involvement with Madame Red as Jack the Ripper wasn’t something to be proud of. She knew that now, they were not making any justice as they had proclaimed. In the end she killed her friend -her friend- all because she felt horribly betrayed for being cast aside. Madame Red had meant a lot to Grell, couldn’t they see that? She had been the only one to truly understand, to know what it felt like to have a body that doesn’t suit you. The consequences for that made her ache terribly in her sleep, nightmares occasionally plaguing her. She never regretted it. No, she would never regret befriending the red-loving human with a haunting past. She never would regret killing her, for deep down, she would not let her dearest one fall like a common criminal at the hands of her own nephew. He didn’t deserve to be the one to condemn her, he didn’t love her like she did. It was this confusion that kept her up at night. If anyone would ever be willing to listen, to simply be there, she would gladly welcome them into her life.

Alas, everyone mistreated her. They called her a ‘he’ when they were clearly made known that she was a woman, in soul at least. Isn’t that what counted? They called her a ‘thing’ behind her back, when they thought she wouldn’t hear. They were wrong. They were all wrong in thinking that she was useless, she was far from it! She was a deathly efficient reaper! She shouldn’t be pushed around for openly displaying who she was. No, they misplaced her, believing that she wasn’t worthy of the status she had. She had earned it, just like the others had earned their place. She was by no means a whore, despite what anyone else claimed. Sure, she had been with men before, but never had it been with more than one at a time. If anything, she was a devoted lover. She loved to flirt, but when she found someone, she would faithfully remain by his side until it was over. No, the conception that mostly everyone, save a selected few, was horribly wrong and deeply distorted.

But she knew; it never mattered how many times they refused her, she would stand tall and raise her head high. She was Grell Sutcliff, and nothing ever slowed her down. Let them think she was incapable, she’d gladly prove them all wrong. A few tears ran by the sides of her face, but she ignored them.

 

They always mistook her for what she was not. They always got her wrong. Not even the highly observant William T. Spears could figure her out. Her masks were just that flawless, and sometimes, she wishes they weren’t. No one seemed to care enough when it came to her. She put on her mask so perfectly, they mistook her for what she was not. She doubted if that was any good for her, but why open herself to people that only mistreated her? She never knew if showing her true self would be a good idea. Would they push her away, more so than now? Or would they for once accept her. It never seemed like a good time. They always expected so little of her, what would actually happen if she surpassed their expectations for once? Despite all that, she hardly complained. She still had a better position than most, after all.

Her mind spun. She felt worthless, she felt downright terrible. These feelings clenched her guts and made her head throb. Grell curled into a little ball, clutching the pillow tightly. How she wished that pillow was someone who loved her, who thought she was worth something, that in a sense, she was perfect. She was sick of feeling like this. She groaned, biting into the pillow to vent her self pity.

No, she was important, she was someone! She had a job, and she was damn good at it. She didn’t always follow the rules, but still, she was one of the best that they got. She graduated with flying colors for a reason! She was a mentor to an amazing reaper who did care for her, she had friends, that while sometimes annoyed by her antics, would still love her. She didn’t need anyone else to know what she thought about herself. She was perfect for her, and that was what really mattered.

Despite her flaws, Grell couldn’t speak ill of herself. No, she was far better than that and she knew it. She was wrong when she did that. It was never true, and it only served to bring her down. She didn’t need to be harsh on herself when the rest of the world already was. She’d let them do the mean talks, she loved herself the way she was, and they couldn’t change that. She knew she had flaws, but that wasn’t their problem, what she had to say about herself was what she really needed to hear, and as of now, she decided that if she was stuck with herself for the rest of eternity, then she’d damn well love who she was.

She stood from her bed and went to the balcony, facing the gardens. She smiled at the full moon. She had once hated herself completely. She once loathed waking up from those dreams in which she was fully a woman. It tired her, all of that self hatred. She had done the best she could. Even without a dress, she could pull off the woman looks, and if that was as close as she was getting, well, it was better than nothing. As of this night, those demons would never plague her again, for she had finally exorcised them.

Grell Sutcliff is perfect for herself. If anyone disagrees, they are not worthy of me. I am who I am and they will never change that. I am not gender-confused, I am not insane, and I most certainly am no common whore. Those who don’t get me don’t matter. In the end I only need myself to be happy with who I am. Those who believe I’m nothing are wrong, and they don’t know how to appreciate a flower such as I.

She went back into her room. Her fears had been drowned. She would show them the real Grell tomorrow morning. She would arrive at work on time, no more second guessing herself in the morning. She would be who she was, to hell with the ones that didn’t like her. At least now she would be happy, for she wouldn’t hide herself.

The redhead went to her kitchen, picking out a glass and a bottle of wine. She was done trying to be who she was not all that time. It tired her endlessly to pretend, it was an unnecessary waste of time. She raised her glass. ‘To being myself, for good and for bad. They will never bring me down.’

There was no way she would seek for the other reaper’s approval of her. She wasn’t there to be criticized and judged. She was there to be the deathly efficient reaper she was, as well as an actress to die for. Really, she should get an award for hiding all her being for such a long time. She never knew if it was because she had been insecure, or maybe too prideful, but she would never understand why her younger self decided to pretend, instead of being.

She finished her glass, feeling a light-headed happiness swell in her chest. She entered her room and picked up a dagger from her night-stand. She smirked. She had a new use for her old partner. She went over to the wall parallel to her bed, and on the way turned the lights on. She raised the dagger and forced it onto the plaster. Skillfully, Grell wrote on simple word that held a lot of meaning.

Perfect

The letters were a bit jagged, but she would get to mastering them tomorrow. Perfection was only achieved through practice after all. This was only the first step.


	2. Resolves are strong on the First Day

Grell woke to the sun glowing on her face. Her eyelids fluttered open, instantly flitting over to last night’s work. It was there alright. A bit jagged and rough on the edges, but as she said, it was only the first step. Today after work she’d polish the edges. She got up and realized it was quite early still. Grinning, Grell got up. She had more than enough time to put together the real Grell Sutcliff. She quickly headed into her bathroom, not needing to turn on the lights thanks to the sun. The clawed tub was quickly filled with warm water and her favorite bath oil. Eagerly, she stepped in, sighing in bliss. She scrubbed her skin and washed her hair thoroughly. 

When the water started to get cold (which admittedly didn't take long as her window let in a morning draft) she stepped out and let it drain. She enveloped herself in a fluffy white towel with red trimmings. Her hair was also put up with another towel. Giddily, she went to her closet, picking out her usual shirt and sleeve-garters. She picked the fitted, black dress pants and matching vest. Her old bow had always been her favourite, so she saw no need in replacing that, as well as her beloved ankle-boots. She left the clothing items at the bed and went over to her cherry wood vanity. She sat on the white-and-red polkadotted stool, applying a lesser amount of make up this time. She was not going for overtly extravagant today. Today was for the real Grell Sutcliff; the amazingly beautiful and talented reaper she knew she was. Opting instead for a smoother and more natural look - please, she only had to highlight her most prominent features - her assemble was simpler. Some eyeliner, a bit of mascara, a tinted lip gloss and a little bit of blush. She was still aiming for perfection here! She giggled at the thought and picked up the silver brush.

A thought came up about how she should do her hair. A ponytail was nice, but maybe not now. A braid seemed like a good idea, but she didn’t feel like it; and wearing it down as usual wasn’t so appealing. She frowned. She wanted to look good for herself. Not for anyone else. She was great on the inside, so her outside might as well reflect it. A thought came to her and she perked up. She took the crimson tresses and wove the ones at the crown onto a braid. She put a black ribbon on it when it came a little before her nape. Perfect. She stood and put her clothes on, slipping into them with ease.

She felt light, as though her head would start floating at any second! Her chest was constricted, but in that warm way one feels when happy. Her stomach had butterflies raging in it. She was happy. Happy and anxious. What are the others going to think? No! I look and feel great. I don’t need their negative opinions...if there even will be any, she thought cheekily. From now, she knew that it would be hard to stick to this new resolution. Old habits die hard, but if last night’s results were any indicator, they would be worth it. She shook herself to rid those thoughts, taking a deep breath. Today she’d have something light for breakfast. Morning jitters and food didn’t mix well. That was easily settled.

A short glance at the clock told her she had just enough time to leave and arrive at work with time to spare. She went to her apartment door and picked the infamous red coat, this time placing it properly on her shoulders. She closed the door behind her when she left, locking it swiftly.

Grell went down the streets, following the familiar path that would lead to the Dispatch Offices. Weaving through the streets, she spotted a small shop a few feet ahead. It was a florist shop she’d once been to. The reaper that owned it was retired, and she had been very nice; even sitting down with Grell for a cup of tea that evening. Deciding she could take the quick detour, the redhead went into the shop.

A little bell jingled, signaling the entrance of a new customer. The aged looking reaper perked up at the sound, a friendly smile instantly falling into place. “Welcome to Mary-Ann's Floral Shop.” She greeted. “Mary-Ann! Good morning!” The elder reaper beamed. “Why Miss Grell, you look lovely this morning. Such a surprise to see you.” Grell smiled bashfully, something that was only caused at the unfamiliarity of being addressed with such kindness. “Thank you. I’m actually early for work this time, so I thought I’d stop by to say hello.”

The acquaintances sat at one of the tables and chatted for a brief while. Mary-Ann got up with Grell to see her to the door. “Do come by more often m’dear.” Grell promised to do so and was on her way. They hadn’t talked about much, but the elder reaper had noticed the change in the ginger’s attitude, though did not comment on it other than the ‘You seem a bit different today’. Indeed, Grell felt different. For once, she felt… how do you say that? She felt like she belonged. She had made peace with who she was, so she did feel different, but not in a bad way. No, quite the opposite really. With a giddy spring in her step she didn’t care to hide, she bounded over to the main building of the Dispatch.

She came in and greeted the receptionist. The female reaper - now she noticed- had never had a problem with Grell. She was always polite and at times even asked her for beauty tips. How silly of me not to notice such things… Sure, it was a tiny detail, but it proved that not all the world had it against her. They exchanged a few pleasantries and the chainsaw-wielding reaper went on her way.

She came into her office, all stark white walls and dark furniture covered in heaps of red. She grimaced. That was not something she had counted on. Sure, she loved the color, but too much of it was overbearing. She had only decorated the place as such to keep the others away, knowing what they thought about her. Such a thorough little actress that she was. Now though, she’d have to change that. It wasn’t her after all. Grell noticed the pile of paperwork on the desk and sighed. That at least was not part of the act. She hated paperwork. Loathed it. Completely. Sighing once more, she went on about to clean up the mess and then get down to filling in the forms.

xX ⌐⌐ Xx

It was almost the afternoon break and William had not seen a single red hair today. Surprisingly, he hadn’t heard anything from said reaper either. He frowned. It wasn’t uncommon for Grell to go missing, but he had already checked the places he knew he frequented and there was no sign of the reaper. ‘He must be getting better at hiding.’ 

William picked up the remaining files and put them in their respective binders. He decided to check on the redhead’s office, on the off chance that he might actually be there. He mentally shuddered at the thought. For sure, Grell’s office was one he never wanted to visit. He steeled himself and went in search for the flamboyant reaper.

He reached the office, only five doors down from his. He knocked briefly, but didn’t wait for an answer, simply stepping in. He closed the door behind him and were he not a naturally stoic person, his jaw would’ve dropped. The white walls could be seen, the dark furniture polished and clearly visible. The window-ledge behind the desk was covered in plush red and silver pillows. A vase of red roses and other flowers accented the storage cabinets. An incense stick scented of warm vanilla burned lazily on top of the desk, that to his surprise, was actually clean and arranged properly. The papers were stacked perfectly, next to the typewriter. There was basket by the desk, filled with paperwork apparently finished.

Still, no sign of the redheaded reaper. He must have gotten the wrong office. He turned to leave but bumped into someone else. Papers flew everywhere, scattering along the floor. “Sorry!” The voice was known by William. “Sutcliff?” The reaper looked up at him from where he collected the papers. “Honestly, Will. It’s my office.” Grell stood and now did his superior’s mouth hang open. Dressed professionally, stood Grell. The vest was fitted as well as the trousers. The bow, shoes and coat were the same, though something seemed different about the reaper.

“Your office?” He rolled his eyes playfully. “Of course, darling. I just finished organizing and finishing up some overdue paperwork; really, what a bore those are! I just went to get some lunch for later, I still need to finish this week’s reports.” She walked past him and placed the bag of take-out on the desk along with the other files. He stared. “You have completed the past month’s work in but a few hours?” She sat in her leather chair, pulling her hair back. “Yeah. I got in early today, so I cleaned up and got a start on the paperwork.” She pulled closer to the desk and sorted through the files. “I finished all that before I needed to go out for a few minutes. A lady such as I can only handle so much time locked in~” she giggled. William took another look around the office. 

“What are you playing at, Sutcliff?” He turned to his ever faithful, stoic facade. This was just another game of his. Grell looked genuinely hurt at this. “I-I’m not playing any games, Will. I just…” How does one explain that they’ve been miserable their whole lives, creating some act to hide it? “I just don’t want to pretend anymore.” She looked...sincere. There were no exaggerated tears or declarations of woe. But what did she mean about pretending? Whatever it was, William wasn’t about to look at a gift horse in the mouth.

“Well then, continue.” He left, stopping at the door hesitantly. Should he say it? It was worth a shot.

“Grell,” She looked up at him from the papers. “Yes, darling?”

“You’re doing a great job today.”

As an afterthought, he added, “Make sure you don’t mess it up.” She only beamed at the compliment while he walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I do sincerely hope you’ve enjoyed it, leave a comment if you’d like, those are much appreciated. Now that I think about it… getting a comment is like when the Undertaker is payed in laughter. One gets the same satisfied feeling. Kudos would be his equivalent of cookies. Whadda'ya say?


	3. Resolves can and will be tested

Grell worked on the papers until lunchtime came about. Over that period, she had finally completed all the dastardly paperwork. She eased into her chair and took the containers out of the bag. She had chosen her favourite noodle soup, with a side of sweet and sour chicken. She was halfway through the meal when her office door was kicked open by none other than Ronald Knox himself. He had his trademark grin plastered on his boyish face, ringed eyes alight with a certain spark. 

“Sutcliff-Senpai! I heard you came on time today!” Grell didn’t as much as flinch. Seriously, this was the Dispatch they were talking about. Anything could happen here. Ronald surveyed the room and his mouth went to the floor. This had to be a prank. This was not his senpai’s office. It was much to organized, much to clean. “You’ll catch flies, Ronnie-dear. I can tell you, girls don’t ‘dig that’, as you say.” The other reaper snapped his mouth shut. “Am I in the right office?” He looked around. Everything was different. But at the same time, he observed his senior. She and the place looked at… peace? He didn’t know, but he got the feeling that this was more like the reaper that was his mentor. Grell sighed, but not in annoyance. “Yes, Ronnie. It’s my office darling, I just organized it.”

Ronald was a very observant lad, and he prided himself in reading people very accurately. To him, Grell had been an enigma. Hidden beneath all that bravado and flamboyance, he never knew what was shrouded under the mask. This was what he assumed, part of the real reaper. He was glad Grell decided to share this bit of herself with him. “It looks great sempai. It’s not what I think you’d usually go for, but it really fits you.”

Grell looked up from her meal, stopping midway as she put the morsel in her mouth. She lowered it and smiled warmly at her protege. “Thank you, dear. I like it pretty much myself. A lot better, don’t you think?” Ronald nodded. “Sure. Anyway, Spears-Senpai sent me here on a small assignment.” He strolled further into the room and sat on the red leather chairs, right across from his superior. The readhead put down the food and turned to face him properly, “What is it, dear?”

“There has been an unidentified attack in the human realm. William wants you to investigate it and file in your reports by the end of the week.” Dual-ringed eyes met an identical pair. “Are you serious? And he never wants me to get involved with the mortals! Really, Will-”

“There’s reason to believe that the attack is from non-mortals.” Ronald looked extremely serious, something unusual. She paused and looked at his sincere eyes. Hher hands behind her neck, she pulled the cheshire smirk. 

“Well then, a lady such as I can never disappoint her superior, can she? Be a darling Ronnie and tell William I’ll be on the case as soon as I place some of the ledgers in the library where they belong and he gives me a complete report on what we have until now.” She started picking up the books and the now-empty plates. Ronald didn’t move. She’s actually doing this? “Senpai? You’re… completing orders?” He looked at her, eyes wide with disbelief. She giggled. “Of course. I can’t be expected to stay here all day behind that desk. Such bothersome tasks are unsuited for a lady, and I am a deathly efficient Grim Reaper~! Now please, do as I said. I have a project back home I’d like to finish up.” She flashed him her Death salute and left through the door, swaying her hips. Ronald only smiled, glad that finally, his favourite senior was acting as she should. ‘Anything for my sempai.’

xX ⌐⌐ Xx

It was well past afternoon hours when Grell was finally sent off to mortal London to start her investigation. She arrived in one of her preferred spots; in the highest rooftops. She eyed the streets below her, the people diminishing by the second into their home. She considered the information given to her, and opted to start her search in the Undertaker’s mortuary. She had never really had a proper conversation with the silverette, but from her acts as Jack the Ripper, she knew he was a valuable informant if one payed the price. Well, here goes nothing.

The redhead went over to the ominous shop. The sign - she couldn’t count how many times it had fallen down now from when she passed through the area- was intact, the white skull glimmering in the moonlight. She pushed the door open, making the little bell at the top ring. As expected, the funeral director slowly sat up from one of his coffins, smiling eerily. “We~eelcome! Have you come for your coffin?” He sniggered, standing up. Grell smirked. “Not quite yet, Undertaker. I came for information this time.” He giggled maniacally at recognizing the voice. 

Ah, so the little reaper that buried me in salt has come back for more? How interesting~! 

“Oh, Miss Sutcliff, right? Well then, you know my price, make me laugh, and I’ll talk.” He offered her a seat in a coffin and took two beakers. He had already been boiling some water for tea, and simply had let it steep. Grell sat, and for the first time that night, the Undertaker’s careful eyes examined her, as they did with every other customer. She looks different. Professional? Is that the right word? She took the offered seat, crossing her ankles delicately and pushing locks of crimson over her shoulder. 

“Hmm, a butcher reared into his grinder, he got a little behind in his work.” She recited the joke she had heard from Ronald, hoping that it would do the trick. It appeared it did, for the mortician was laughing loudly. Grell allowed a proud smile to grace her lips. Jokes really weren’t her strong point. “So, will you tell me what I want to know?” Feeling like having a little more fun -the day had been dreadfully boring- the Undertaker decided to refuse.

“While that did provide some amusement, it is not enough payment, m’lady. A first Rate Laugh, as you already know is what I seek, so until you pay the right price, my lips are sealed.” He chuckled in mirth at her dumbfounded expression. Really, this was one of the most amusing reapers he ever had the luck of coming across, always wearing her emotions on her sleeve.

“What!? But you said I had to make you laugh! And I did!” She sounded exasperated, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting. Aw, how adorable, thought the mortician, but that’s not enough to convince me~ “You did, but it was not to the laughing standard I’m used to requiring from my clients, so you haven’t paid me yet.” He sniggered, thoroughly enjoying the redhead’s reactions. She huffed and stood harshly, just a few feet before him. “No fair! You said ‘make me laugh, and I’ll talk’ so I owe you nothing!” Undertaker held in his guffaws. “My dear we already discussed this! Hehehe~ You don’t pay, there’s no service.” He waved his hands in dismissal. 

What an amusing little reaper indeed.

Grell acted upon instinct this time, no rational thinking included. She grabbed his wrist harshly and pulled, taking him by surprise. Grell was singularly strong, he noted; but then again, she’d have to be to carry around such a heavy Death Scythe. She stopped in front of a mirror. “You want a joke? Then look in the mirror. There it is.” She let go of his wrist and went to the door. “If you really aren’t going to be of help then I must be going. Goodnight.” Her words were cold, and Undertaker couldn’t find it in himself to laugh. Who would’ve known she would react like that? One might have thought that she would try to flirt her way out, with the way she acted around William and Sebastian. This was not the red little reaper he was used to seeing from his windows and through the darkness. And where does she think she’s going? Our business isn’t done!

Her hands were on the knob, turning it and opening the door. His hands slammed it shut from behind her. He stood at full height, arms pressing onto the wood of the door and acting as a cage. She was trapped between the mortician and the wall. Her cheeks flared a bright red and her eyes went wide. “Wha-what-”

“Now, m’dear, that wasn’t a very nice thing to do, was it?” He asked in a tone she’d never heard before. She shivered. This clearly wasn’t the old mortician he pretended to be. No, this was just a small glimpse at what lied beneath the mask. Still, he wasn’t going to intimidate her. Well, not anymore than she already was…

“I wouldn’t have done that if you hadn't broken our deal.” Grell fixed a stern gaze on the wall, avoiding his acidic eyes. “If we are not going to have any business, I have work to do, so let me go.” She was calm and poised. Quite the contrast to what Undertaker normally saw. He backed off reluctantly. 

“Never thought I’d see the day where Grell Sutcliff would want to work.” The idea was laughable. The exuberant reaper would rather chase after a demon, bury him in salt and cause havoc among the realms than settle for ‘work’. He giggled at his thoughts, covering his mouth with a long sleeve. She escaped his confines and glared. 

“Then clearly you don’t know as much as I thought you did about hiding one’s true self.” The redhead dusted her beloved jacket and patted her hair into place. The mortician was astounded. So it was only just a rouse? The whole act she put up? No, no way. It was too perfect, too good to be true.

“Hiding? Whatever would you mean by that, m’dear?” She peered at him from beneath her lashes and huffed. “You know exactly what I mean. Neither you nor I are what we appear to be.”

After deliberating it in her mind, “You only saw of me what I wanted to show you, not who I really was.”

The words sunk in, and Undertaker found himself frowning slightly. So he had been fooled. All the organization was the same. Work, work, work and no sensitivity. And he had thought she might have been something else… What a foolish old codger he’d been, getting his hopes up like that.

“Then leave. I don’t care for fake people.” he found himself saying. He didn’t expect it, he didn’t see it coming, but the sting on his cheek throbbed all the same from the sudden slap. The younger reaper stood before him, venomous eyes glowing with slightly held-back rage. “Then what a hypocrite you are. You do just the same as me. You hide behind that ‘old creepy mortician’ mask, just as I hid behind mine. And I may not know all of your reasons, but at least I did it for what I thought was my own good. I know I was wrong, so I’m fixing that mistake. You have no right to call me out on that. Not anymore.” Her eyes became glazed with unshed tears yet her tone remained firm. “I’d best be on my way.” She promptly left the establishment, leaving behind a very confused and wide eyed Undertaker. 

Well, it’s been awhile since I’ve been caught off-guard like that…

Grell paced through the rooftops near the Big Ben. That had been a blow. She’d known not everyone would be accepting of her true self, but she had to admit, it hurt all the same. 

This is why I hid. Because it’s so much easier to accept that people don’t like what you appear to be, but it hurts too much when they can’t accept what you are. 

A salty tear rolled down her cheek, expressing the pent up emotion. She wiped at it furiously. Focus, now’s not the time to cry! She jumped to the alleys below, intent on beginning her search. William had told her that the attacks happened on the East End, taking down three humans -two little twins and their mother- and leaving none of the soul behind. The last part was the concerning point. If they were killed by mere mortals, their souls should’ve been left untouched. As it was, their souls were unaccounted for. From her experience, this could be from a demon attack, yet there was one determining factor. There was no trace of Demon Energy anywhere near the vicinity. While they may have cloaked it, it was highly unlikely. Only demons of the strongest caliber could fully cloak themselves, and even then, why would they do that to acquire only three measly souls? This case was taking unexpected twists that Grell found herself fearing.

At least I’ve got enough to report for today, I still have something to work on for myself. 

Smiling to herself, the redhead opened a portal back to her home realm, heading to the Scythe Management sector to relieve her scythe for the night. Once done, she took the familiar path to her apartment, stopping by the hardware store for a few materials. The night was somewhat young, and she didn’t really need all that sleep. She was far too excited for that anyway. She forwent changing into more comfortable clothes and unbraiding her hair. Grell barely managed to not choke on her dinner from the excitement. Surely working on a wall, writing the word ‘Perfect’ was nothing to get excited about. But this just wasn't about writing pretty words on walls. This was about showing herself all she could be.


	4. No paperwork, a Demon and a question to be Asked

Sunshine poured into the room from the parted curtains, the light reaching the slumbering reaper. Said being grumbled, shifting from her awkward position on the floor, trying to find some comfort. A loud ring came from her phone, making her jump at the sound. Frantically, she looked around the room, acid eyes stopping on the slim black object. Once recognition set in, she let out a frustrated sigh. Her tired form crawled over to the slim thing, her sore muscles unwilling to part from the stability and slight comfort of the floor. ‘So much for not needing to sleep…’ She picked the phone, looking at the caller ID and realizing that it was Eric Slingsby. A brow went up in curiosity. The redhead pressed the answer button and put it to her ear.

“Mornin’ Sutcliff. It’s Eric.” Grell rubbed her eyes, settling into a sitting position. “Yeah, mornin’ to you too. What’ya need this early?” She yawned through her speech. “Mr. Spears has Alan covering your paperwork while you are on your investigation. He said he wants ye ta concentrate only on ‘at, so there will be no need to come to the office but ta retrieve yer scythe.” Crimson brows raised to the hairline in surprise. “Really, no paperwork at all during my mission?” A light chuckle was heard over the line. “No, as surprising as it sounds. All but the reports that ya need ta hand in.” Grell leapt to her feet, eagerness spreading through her. “Well then, thanks Eric. Say thanks to Alan for me.” “Will do, Red. Take care.” The call was dropped and the she threw the phone on the bed. The reaper went to ready herself for the day. She had to look her best, it wasn’t always that she got to see her ‘dearest’ Bassy.

 

xX ⌐⌐ Xx

Sebastian strolled around the London streets, heading to a certain mortuary. His Young Master had been requested to investigate a series of sudden murders on the East End by the Queen, and as per usual, the Undertaker was the only one to know about what was really going on. He sighed at the thought of having to encounter the lunatic. This was truly troubling, he had better hurry and get back to his master. The little Earl had a knack for getting kidnapped so often that at times it made Sebastian wonder if he would ever get a break. 

The door creaked open as the butler stepped inside the dank place. The smell of death was prominent in the air, accompanied by the scent of wood and embalming fluids. The old fool that owned it came out from a coffin - as expected of a man like him- and greeted the demon, this time in a less than friendly way. “So the Master Butler has come without his Earl, how quaint. Me wonders, what is it you’re up to?” A reaper. That’s what the mortician really was. He knew that; the old fool was apparently an ancient reaper, a legend among his kin, and the first of his kind. Or so said the rumors. The demon found it quite intimidating, but the man’s overall appearance conveyed an elder codger, irreparably fond of the dead and twisted in the head. “My master is busy working on the company's affairs, and has sent me to gather the pertinent information to his most recent case.” The silver-haired placed a hand on his chin, pondering. “You know my price, butler.” Sebastian sighed. Why couldn’t he be a normal informant and ask for money instead? I was much easier that way for his side. In any case, he paid the price - considerably, a quite handsome one this time- and the mortician sat down on a coffin used as a desk, sifting through the papers. “The corpses that arrived were of a hindu family, if I’m not mistaken. The relative came before I got any investigation done, and asked that the corpses be returned to him, so that he may cremate the bodies. Since there was a religious aspect included this time, I was forced to hand them over without opening them up.” He paused to take a bite from his trademark bone-biscuits. “The Yard had agreed to this only because a murder like this is not too out of the ordinary for the East End. Far as I gathered the poor bloke owed someone a hefty sum. There was no real reason for alarming their pretty little heads and send the Watchdog~ Hehehehe.” The raven sighed in annoyance. His master would not be pleased at this. He bowed slightly, thanking the funerary director and swiftly taking his leave.

At the door, he cursed his luck. The bumbling buffoon known as Grell Sutcliff awaited him. His acidic orbs were focused on him like a predator eying the prey.

“Well, well, fancy meeting you here, dearest Bassy!” The redhead walked over to the butler, taking sensuous, calculated steps. The butler grit his teeth, he’d have to behave around this moron, if he ever wished to enlist it’s help. How terrible, that this thing was the only reaper willing to do his bidding when properly enticed. “Yes, indeed, Mr. Sutcliff. Is there a reaping somewhere nearby that you crossed paths with me?” To his frustration, the Reaper had a discouraging answer and a promise to pester. 

“As much as I do love my job, that is not the reason I’m here today. I was in fact, looking for you, Sebby.” He tapped a finger to his chest, batting long eyelashes at the demon. Still sensing the demon’s aura around the Undertaker peeked at the scene from his window. What he saw wasn’t too surprising, yet he decided to stay and watch, his guests were patient. They would wait. 

“Looking for me; whatever for?” Sebastian painted a fake smile on his face, the Undertaker almost laughing his pants off at the sight. 

Such an uptight being, that demon. Hehehehe~

“It may have to do with the string of murder you are searching into. It is rumored that it might be a demon’s doing, since there were no souls in the corpses at the times for collection. I’m wondering, Sebby, have you been sneaking treats as of late?” The butler’s eyes widened in surprise, as did the Undertaker’s beneath his fringe. The raven’s lips sealed in a pensive frown. “Or is there another handsome demon like you lurking around?” Grell questioned, tapping a finger against her spectacles. Sebastian seemed to be genuinely confused. “I know not of what you are talking about, Sutcliff.” He made to leave but the materialized chainsaw blocked his path, intent on reporting this to the Young Master. 

“Nice try, Bassy, but my question was simple. Is there or is there not another demon flitting about town?” Her dual-ringed eyes narrowed at him, her tone stern. For the first time since meeting the red reaper, Sebastian felt a chill run up his spine at the cold gaze. “The only demon around is I.” He looked at her cautiously, the reaper was a volatile little thing, he’d have to be careful lest he got to make some damage. “And if you’ll excuse me, I have to return to my Master before it’s too late for tea.” 

The reaper stayed where she was. “Then, are you the one who took the souls, Bassy? For a demon, you seem awfully starved. How many years has it been already? Two, three perhaps?” She positioned the scythe carefully in her hands, making sure to paint a menacing picture for the dark raven. The black butler placed his hands into his pockets, reaching for his cutlery. 

“I am hungry, but not starved. I will not ruin my appetite with unworthy souls.” Grell’s orbs glowed with venom, something Sebastian had never seen. She assessed him, and after a while, dematerialized her scythe. “Very well. If you happen to find another demon in the area and fail to notify me,” the poison in the reaper’s eyes blazed, making a tiny amount of fear creep into the demon’s bring. “I assure you, Bassy, your dear master will meet the business end of my Death Scythe, and you will be powerless to stop it.” She winked and blew a kiss in Sebastian’s direction. An irritated noise came from the butler. “I highly doubt that, Grell Sutcliff.”

It didn’t take even a second. Sebastian had been pushed back into the alley wall and the chainsaw was revolving too close to his neck for comfort. The menacing look to the reaper’s eyes was back, a wolfish grin on her porcelain face. “Now, now Bassy. You’re getting weak. Don’t make my job of painting you red any easier, handsome~” Sebastian’s face contorted into confusion. 

How had this happened? Was he really that lacking in nourishment? 

“Will you tell me about any other demons in the area, darling?” She pressed the scythe further, nichin at his skin and drawing beads of crimson from his neck. ‘This isn’t worth the trouble’, Sebastian thought. With an exasperated sigh, he agreed. The Death Scythe was instantly removed. A kiss was blown his way as he left.

Undertaker watched the interaction amusedly. Who would’ve thought the red reaper could actually be on par with the raven demon? Though another thought was a bit unsettling. Grell was smarter than what he had anticipated. Bolder too. She had looked for the right person, asked the right questions and made the right moves. She had known the souls were worthless to a demon like Michaelis, had known he would never be after them; yet she asked him, to know if there were other demons in the area. That would have the supposed ‘other demon’ at a disadvantage in a fight. Not only that, but in that short lapse of time the Undertaker had sensed a seed of fear on the butler. Sutcliff had scared him for a second there.

If he wanted things to go according to the plan, Undertaker had to be careful. He needed to tread lightly, or the fiery reaper would know what was wrong. His secrets couldn’t be revealed. Not yet anyway.

Undertaker saw the red blur known as a reaper jump onto a rooftop. ‘You only saw of me what I wanted to show you, not who I really was.’ The words echoed at the back of his mind. ‘But at least I did it for what I thought was my own good. I know I was wrong, so I’m fixing that mistake.’ A long hand came to rest at the mortician’s chin. “Then who exactly are you, Grell Sutcliff?” He mused aloud. Rubbing his hands with mad glee, he retired to the confines of his shop, eager to know what awaited him from the red reaper’s behalf.

xX ⌐⌐ Xx

Grell came to the top of the Big Ben, watching the people below run around like tiny, colorful ants. There was no other demon. It was not Sebastian’s doing. Some other supernatural being perhaps? No, there would’ve been an aura left, some trace that they had been there. Alas, there was none. “Or we haven’t searched hard enough.” She muttered, a thought invading her mind. Perhaps the other Dispatch Agents hadn’t sensed something because they weren’t looking for something. Sometimes, it was hard to identify another creature because they had an air so different from Angels, Demons and Humans alike. They were uncommon, so they weren’t easily identified. Mind made up, Grell stood and hugged the long coat closer to her frame. “I’ll just have to take another glance at it myself.” That said, she went of to where the crime had been committed.

The place was an old alleyway in the darkest corners of the East End. Crates were strewn about, moss and trash littering the cobbled floor. A glove-clad hand came up to Grell’s nose to cover the stench. “Gah, disgusting.” It was then that the redhead was glad that reapers didn’t need to breathe. Thank goodness for that. She searched around the place and soon found where the bodies had once lied dead. There was a pool of blood that was jostled. She saw the faint outline of the signs of struggle. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on finding the aura of a witch. They were specially dark, and almost comparable to that of a lower level Demon, but the essence left was always a tad lighter.There was none. 

She tried again with a werewolf, as farfetched as that sounded. Normally they didn’t live in London, but with the signs of struggle, it was a slim chance. No such luck. Vampires? No, there was too much blood lost for it to have been one of those. She racked her brain for other creatures that might be residing in London, or even the surrounding cities, but none came to mind. Frustrated, she decided to once again head to the Undertaker’s. It wasn’t that she really wanted to see the old bat so soon, but it couldn’t be helped. Maybe he had some information on the corpses. She hadn’t had the chance to ask anything last time. With a sigh, she left the alley and went to the Undertaker's shop.

“I hope he has learnt not to mess with a lady as myself. My Scythe’s blade is in a need for a few scratches~”


	5. Find what's Underneath

Just like last time, Grell entered the shop and the bell at the top announced her entrance. This time, the mortician came from the back of the shop, hair up in a ponytail excluding his trademark braid, though his fringe was in its usual place. ‘Such a shame to hide those lovely jewels he has for eyes’ She mentally kicked that thought to the curb. ‘Focus, Sutcliff! Now’s not the time for that, girl.’

“Hehehehe~ If it isn’t Miss Sutcliff. Come back already, dearie?” He rid himself of the surgical gloves covered in gore and threw them on a bucket. “Sadly so. I never got to ask for the information I needed last night.” She came in, taking a seat on one of the displayed caskets. The Undertaker eyed her warily. “Alright. My payment for this once has changed.” he announced. Grell flipped a strand of hair over her shoulder, suddenly curious. “Well, what is it then?”

The madman chuffed. “You have made this old coot curious, little red reaper. Now me wonders; who...are you?” The question baffled the reaper. “Why would you want to know that? You already know my name: Grell Sutcliff.” One of her eyebrows was raised, her lips pouting curiously. The mortician shook his head. “That was not my question, Grell. I know your name. But who are you? That is what I want to know. If you can tell me that, being completely honest -no masks- I’ll tell you what you wish.” It was endearing to the redhead, the way that the Undertaker had spoken her name and asked such a thing.

She sputtered through her speech. “W-what!? How dare you ask such a thing of me? I-I have dignity you know! A lady does not reveal herself like that - much less to someone that insulted her!” Her cheeks were aglow with her passionate red in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Her eyes widened in realization upon hearing the final words that had escaped her lips. “I-I...uhm.” Her mouth gaped, struggling to find the words that would convey the thoughts jumbled in her head. Just why had she said that he had insulted her? Why did she show him that damned vulnerability?

“I insulted you, m’lady? How so?” Grell averted her gaze onto a nearby coffin.

Oh, he didn’t even realize how hurtful he’d been. She had let him see a fragment of the truth, of who she really was, and he had the audacity to call her a fake; for doing exactly the same thing that he did!

“Forget it, it’s nothing. I tend to overdramatize everything.” The silverette hummed in thought, placing a hand on his chin. “Are you sure, m’lady?” He came to stand before her, looming over her figure. “It would be terrible of me if I were to hurt a lady’s feelings after all.”

Startled, she looked up to his scarred face. “Why would you care? No one does.” True, no one cared if they had insulted her in the past. Perhaps that would change once they caught wind of who she truly was? She set her gaze somewhere else other than his face. “Besides, why do you want to ‘know who I am?’, anyway?” Her arms crossed over her chest, as if that would protect her from the legend before her. He sensed her uneasiness, and calmly retreated to sit on the coffin parallel to her. “I care because it was my fault I made you feel bad. I like to scare people, yes, but not really insult them, much less a lady.” His bony hands reached for the ribbon holding his hair in place, taking the edges and letting it fall to the floor. “As for who you are, I already said; you made this madman wonder. It’s been awhile since anyone’s fooled me like that.”

Grell raised her head, looking at his fringe. “It hurt, alright? But I’m used to it.” Her hands played with the other, taking her attention from him. “Can we just go back to your usual rate? I need whatever information that you have, and I don’t feel like having an open heart chat at the moment. It’s not like I’ve got the time.” A pout crossed her lips and Undertaker found himself sighing. “As the lady wishes. Though I am sorry for the hurt I have put you through, have in mind it was certainly not my intention. My guests are never insulted by what I say, so I’m afraid me’s lost some social interaction. Hehehe~” A wry ghost of a smile made way into Grell’s porcelain face. It felt nice when he apologized. That hardly ever happened, and when it did, it was said sarcastically - never heartfelt. 

The lunatic reaper grinned, he had uncovered something of the red reaper. With a little more work and finesse on his part, he would be able to unveil the real reaper underneath the flamboyancy. What a spectacle that would prove to be. “So then, m’dear. Give me a First Rate Laugh! Hehehehehehe~!”

Grell rolled her eyes, but was inwardly racking her brain for any jokes she knew. Her face took on a pensive expression which the Undertaker found quite intriguing. 

Hehehe, what a funny little redhead~!

She spoke, bringing him out of his stupor. “There were once two lawyers, partners for over forty years. Steve lay dying, with Alex at his side. He spoke his final words to his friend. ‘Alex, I've got to confess -- I've been sleeping with your wife for 30 years, I'm the father of your daughter, and I've been stealing from the firm for a decade.’ Unperturbed, his friend replies, ‘Relax, I’ve known about this for a long while. Who do you think put the arsenic in your drink?’”

The Undertaker laughed until his sides hurt and tears sprang from his eyes. He fell to the ground in his fit of laughter. “Hehehehe! Now this is Prime Laughter! Hahahaha~! Ah Styx, I’ll tell you anything now!” Grell smirked triumphantly, patiently waiting for his laugh to subside.

“There was a recent murder, in the East End. A woman and her children. They were twins. I want to know everything about what killed them, and why.” Her right leg crossed over her left, and a hand played with a strand of hair as she waited. Unbeknown to her, Undertaker’s eyes widened in alarm. He hid it with his bangs, and thankfully, he knew how to keep the creepy smile in place. “What makes you think that it was a ‘what’ and not a ‘who’, dearie?” He tapped the corners of his mouth with an onyx claw. 

Mayhaps I’ll get out of this one yet. I just need time - and a very good distraction.

“There were no souls at the time of collection. It couldn’t have been a mortal.” She explained briefly, and gestured with her gaze for him to go on. “Really? I only received the corpses yesterday. They were dismissed by the Yard when a relative came to pick them up, so I didn’t get time to examine them.” He knew how they died, but he couldn’t tell her. No, his plan was not ready to be revealed just now. She looked intrigued. “But then what do you think killed them? You surely must’ve seen something on their corpses, Undertaker. There was too much blood on the site, something has to have caused it. Something unnatural.”

They way in which the younger reaper told him her observations - with that smart glint in her eyes- warned the Undertaker. He’s on thin ice now. He better tread carefully if he wanted his experiment to be completed without a mayor hitch. Grell wasn’t an adversary to be taken lightly. “What do you think did it, m’lady?” 

“I’m sure what didn’t do it. Not a Vampire, Werewolf, Witch, Reaper, Demon nor Angel. And why are you making the questions? You’re supposed to be the one answering them!” She huffed, clearly losing her patience. He giggled. “Calm down, m’lady. I merely wanted to know your opinions on the matter. As for what I believe caused it, methinks it was a man.”

Delicate crimson brows went up, and her hands stilled themselves. “What do you mean? I told you, it wasn’t a mortal.” Her head was cocked to the side, a thoughtful frown marred her face. Undertaker almost dissolved in giggles. It was simply too fun to play with the Dispatch Agents - specially this little redhead, she always made the most amusing expressions. He kept his laughter at bay. “I meant that it looks human, like a man, not mortal, m’dear.” The face that Grell pulled cracked him, he laughed. Loudly.

“Hahahahaha~ Oh, m’lady, you do make the most amusing expressions, hehehe~” The redheaded reaper pouted. This was a waste of time! The mortician knew nothing! “And are you sure you didn’t sense some supernatural aura to the deceased? Perhaps...maybe a Banshee’s or something the like? I picked up on something, but I don’t know what it was. It’s new to me. Wouldn’t you have known though, you are a legend after all.” The Undertaker paled under his bangs.

Bullocks! Damn this reaper! How did she think of that?

He scratched the nape of his neck awkwardly, too keep up the act. “My, I hadn’t thought of that. Now that you mention it, I did feel something off about them, but like you, I don’t know what it came from.” He easily lied.

So useless. Grell sighed. This would be a slow investigation, from what she could tell. At least I’m not getting paperwork...bu~ut I’m not out reaping either. Why must the world be so cruel to me? She got up from the casket she sat upon, smoothing her attire. “Well then, Undertaker...if that is all you can offer me, I best leave. A lady such as myself can’t possibly fall behind on her work! See you, darling~” She swayed her hips to the door, turning to blow a kiss in the mortician’s direction; last night’s crimes against her having been pardoned.

“Yes, yes, goodbye, Miss Sutcliff. Have a nice evening.” He chuckled inwardly sighing with relief, and it made Grell pause. ‘My lady.’ ‘Miss Sutcliff.’ Whenever he referred to her, he always did with the proper pronouns, respecting that she was a woman. It was strange, anyone but Ronald - and that was on occasion - used her preferred pronouns. It didn’t mean it wasn’t comforting. She just wasn’t used to it, and boy was that sad. Her defenses crumbled at the thoughtfulness of his words, and the question asked itself with no permission to leave the full lips it was spoken from. “Why do you do that?” So as not to make a complete fool out of herself, ‘Damn it, mouth!’ Grell turned to face him. “Why do you always call me a lady when-” A knot formed in her throat. She always had a hard time admitting this, it always felt more prominent when she did. “When everyone else says what they see?” Her eyes welled with unshed tears, but she pushed them back. This madman would not see her weak. She bit her lower lip, taking care not to break the skin.

The Undertaker looked at the broken creature before him, feeling a pull at his usually dormant heart-strings. Oh damn the redhead. “And is not a lady what you are? Physical bodies are only temporary, they do not always reveal the truths of the soul. In soul you are a woman, right? As what we are, we should care more for what we are inside. I simply address you as you are.” Grell stood frozen. No one had ever! Never had someone been so delightfully honest.

Thinking quickly, she ran up to the mortician, looping her arms around his neck to close the distance. He stood his ground, curious as to where this was headed. Her full lips were suddenly planted on his cheek, leaving a chaste kiss. They were gone as soon as they went, the owner of said lips pulling away, yet not leaving her grip. Her face was graced with a genuine smile, exposing her sharp pearls. 

“Thank you! Thank you, so much for that.” Her lips once again pressed to his pale cheek before leaving completely. She rushed to the door, giving him a last glance. Her green-gold eyes sparkled and a pink blush dusted her cheeks. She flashed him a grateful smile and was off, leaving him in his darkness.

Oh yes, you have really made this madman curious now, little Red~

xX ⌐⌐ Xx

Grell portaled back to the Great Library. The reapers there instantly hushed their conversation into quiet whispers as she walked past. She kept her eyes trained on her path, forcing herself to drown out their taunts, their insults. It wouldn’t be the first time, she was used to this. It never made it any easier, though.

“There it goes. You think it will sleep with me?” came a hardly concealed snigger from one of the reapers. He dressed in the usual suit, with square framed glasses and messy black locks. He was a few inches taller than herself, and much more brawny. “Maybe. Though I heard it likes Demons better.” That stopped her. How dare they? How dare they call her an ‘it’!? And sleep around? Yes, she flirted with any guy that she deemed handsome enough,and those happened to be but a few; but when had she ever slept around with any of said men? She ground her teeth together in anger, a steady stream of blood tainting her face red. It wouldn’t do to lose her temper now. 

“Please gentlemen, whomever you are speaking of deserves some respect. I do not believe that is a topic that should be discussed at the moment either.” She had calmed herself and now stood with an unreadable face in front of the reapers. “Anyone else hears you and you’d be charged for harassment.” She kept her voice steady, looking at them with a slight glare. The one that had spoken first puffed his chest out, smirking devilishly.

“Why, Sutcliff, we were just speaking about you. I wonder, would you care to join my bed tonight? I’ve been awfully lonely as of late, and you give yourself so freely.” He moved forth, pushing her back into the wall. The other reaper, shorter than his partner and with chestnut hair, closed in on her other side. “And you wouldn’t say a thing, would you? It wouldn’t be harassment if you enjoyed it; I assure you, you will.” She was trapped, insulted and mostly, scared. This was the most direct anyone had been with her. These two were the new blokes in the Dispatch, an exchange from another country - they clearly didn’t know the power she had. 

What do I do? What do I do!? Think, Grell! 

“So, what do you say to the offer. Slutcliff?” asked the shorter. He grinned evilly at the tears welling in the effeminate’s eyes. She shut them, too late to ignore what they had said. 

They will not see me cry, they will not see me weak!

She glared daggers at them. “First of all, morons, I’m a she. I know my biological limitations, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a woman.” She grabbed on to the front of their suits, pulling them down to her level. “So you will always address me as such. Secondly,” another harsh tug, making them wobble, “I am not a whore nor a slut. A flirt? Completely, but my bed is not open to anyone, and neither do I so freely join them in theirs.” Her fists tightened, and the reapers were beginning to think egging her on was a bad idea. “Finally, my name is Sutcliff. Grell Sutcliff.” She pushed them back, making them stumble on their feet and fall, scared expressions firmly etched on their faces. She considered taking her scythe out on them - it seemed appropriate. Looking around however, she decided against it. The action would bring trouble onto her alone and the other two would walk out fine in the end.

She still wanted to run them with her Death Scythe.

“I hope I’ve made myself clear.” They just nodded, crawling to their feet and leaving in haste. The other reapers that had been onlooking the events had shut their mouths in surprise. The redhead surveyed them, deciding that it was time to demand the respect she deserved. “That goes for the rest of you as well.” She pat her outfit into place, dusting it off and continuing on her way.

Once she knew she was alone, she let the tears fall. She had known what they said in hushed whispers behind her back. She had known of their taunts, of the way she was disgraced and thought of. Many would talk and spread rumors, but they were too afraid of her to do it to her face. It didn’t mean it hurt any less. She put a hand to her mouth, stifling the sobs that threatened to come out. Her vision was blurry, but she knew her way around. Her legs moved without her mind realizing it. She nearly crashed into another Reaper, but hastily ignored him and his call of “Watch where yer goin’!” Her lungs burned for unneeded oxygen, her legs trembled.

Somehow, she found a closet door and simply threw it open. She slammed it shut once inside, letting out all her frustrations. She cried hard and long. Her tears ruined her makeup, smearing black over her face. Grell didn’t care, she had to take it out of her system. She needed to cry, she wanted to go home. The Reaper curled into a small ball at the corner, not knowing what else to do. Her sobs racked her body and her nose became runny.

Just as she was slipping into another world when the door creaked open. She hadn’t bothered to turn the lights on, preferring the darkness that encased her sorrows; so when the light seeped in she scrunched her eyes. A short figure could be seen blocking the light, but Grell kept her eyes averted, hoping that whomever it was, would leave her alone. “Grell? Are you alright?” came the soft voice. She knew that voice, she realized, yet she didn’t want to face it- much too embarrassed at her display of weakness to actually do so. 

“It’s Alan. Come on, Grell, it’s okay.” A hand was extended her way and without thinking, the redhead pulled in the shorter man into a tight hug. He let her cry on him, patting her back like any good friend. He said nothing, only listened. And that was what she needed, someone to listen. To recognize she was there and that she was worth caring for. Alan was happy to oblige, he was her friend - he cared. 

Once she was soothed, he spoke. “I saw what they did to you, back there. I heard what they said.” He stroked her hair in a calming motion when a whimper escaped her lips. “I want you to know you did the right thing. They shouldn’t have said that, but you made yourself be respected. I admire you for that, I don’t think I’d be able to stand up for myself in such a way.” Her slender arms embraced him tightly. “It still hurts. It hurts too much, Al.” She spoke in broken cries, but the brunette remained composed. “I know, but you’re making it stop; right now, that’s what you just did. You are stopping them, and that’s great.” He went to his feet, pulling the redhead up with him. “Come on, let’s go report those idiots to William.” He passed her a handkerchief and waited for the effeminate to compose herself. She smiled gratefully once she was done. 

“Thanks, Alan. You’re right. It’s time to stop this.”


	6. Stand up, My Lady

Alan and Grell fixed themselves before exiting the closet - least someone start speaking the untruths that might have gone on in there. On their way to William's office, the brunnette of the pair focused on his taller companion, and sadly, not to his surroundings. He was about to make a comment on the redhead’s acts when he got a facefull of black vest-and-suit-on-a-chest. The two crash victims bounded back, though the smaller one falling promptly on his butt.

“Eric! H-hey, sorry!” Alan called from the floor as the blond adjusted his knocked over glasses. “Alan! Sorry!” He extended a hand to the fallen one and it was eagerly taken. “Sorry, didn’t see you there. Thanks by the way.” He dusted his suit, giving his partner a smile. The other smiled back, until he took notice of the other reaper’s state. “Red? Somethin’ wrong with’ya? Ya don’t look-” Eric shut his mouth, remembering how feisty the redhead was when it came to her looks. She only gave him a wry smile. “I know. I don’t look too good.” She half shrugged, fidgeting. She wanted to get Alan’s attention so that they could report the problem, but she hated seeming so weak - especially in front of Eric. He was someone she would brag to, make bets and tease all the time. It wouldn’t do good to appear weak now. 

Did I say now? I must be delirious - I meant never!

“Grell and I were just heading to Mr. Spears’ office to report harassment. We’ll catch up later, okay?” Thankfully the brunette was a sensible guy; he read her easily, knowing that if it were him, he wouldn’t want to do it alone. The elder put a hand on Alan’s shoulder, “Harassment? What’ya mean? Did someone -” He was cut off again. “I’m alright. Some idiots were molesting Grell.” Her eyes widened and a profound blush came onto the redhead’s face. Alan! Did you really have to tell him? Noticing her pout, he spoke. “It’s okay, Grell. We’re your friends. I know you don’t want anyone finding out, but Eric, Ronald, and I - probably even William can help you.” He pat her back as he had done a few minutes prior. The blond stroked his goatee in thought, soon enough putting two together in his mind.

“So at’s why ya ran past. When ya came barrelin’ like ‘at I thought ya were chasin’ some poor intern that happened ta catch yer eye.” The scotsman said with a smile, making the others return the gesture. “I have ta send in some paperwork to Spears. I’ll go in with’ya.” 

Indirect meaning in Eric’s head though the others know: ‘I’m here for you.’ 

Even if he did have paperwork to hand in, that was the direct translation; Eric wasn’t a person to be very open about his feelings either. The effeminate bowed her head in thanks, taking the lead in their little trio. The not-so-secret lovers followed close behind.

It was only a few quick turns across the halls that lead from the Library to the Main Building offices. They passed the indoor gates and took a ride to the Dispatch Offices in the third floor. They went mostly unnoticed by the other occupants, though some of them would stare at Grell for varying reasons. Those gazes instantly went the other way when the ones following her sent them glares of their own. Grell herself didn’t pay them any direct attention. She stood tall, nose in the air and her eyes set on her goal. She seemed untouchable, a superior being they couldn’t touch - metaphorically or otherwise. A soft smile of pride graced the redhead’s lips, showing some of her sharp teeth. She wasn’t to be trifled with.

Grell rapped her knuckles on the darkwood door softly, but didn’t await an answer. It was a step-up. Usually, she’d just barge in, regardless of the superior’s state at the time. As usual, the raven reaper was perched on his desk, Death Scythe within hand’s reach and his nose stuck on some form or another. He looked up from the many piles of sheets of paper that were strewn (in an organized fashion) across his desk.

“Mr. Sutcliff, Humphries and Slingsby, to what do I owe the pleasure?” His hands came up to fix his glasses, voice as monotone as ever. “It’s Miss. You know that, Will.” She grumbled. The other only raised an eyebrow. He was not in the mood for arguments. 

“Alright. Is there anything you needed? You still have an investigation to conduct. We are still as understaffed as ever.” The reapers at the back gave Grell an encouraging push, to which she barely stumbled forward. 

“Well, go on.” 

“We’re ‘ere fer ya.” They whispered. She took a breath and stepped forward. 

Why is this so hard? 

“I just came in to look at some files in the Library. I -uh...obviously, encountered other reapers...and um-” she trailed off, not knowing how to continue. William only raised a pristine brow. She turned her eyes to the pair that accompanied her; they smiled softly, Eric making a shooing motion with his gloved hands. Grell mentally thanked them, facing her boss once more. Her fingers went up to the chains of her spectacles, fiddling with the little beads. “I want to report harassment.” She spat it out, afraid to lose her nerve at the last second. She stood still while the Supervisor surveyed her. This was becoming recurrent - Sutcliff surprising him in differing manners, none which covered anything lewd- and he didn’t know how to deal with it.

“Report harassment? Whom from?” A crimson that rivaled her hair seeped into her cheeks. “From reapers Zacharias Lakewoods and Gregory Wright. They...molested me when I was arriving to the Library, by the entrance.” Her acid eyes were glazed over, restless at the minute, for they never stayed on him for long. Once again, this was something different from her usual behaviour. Yet her words rang louder than her actions. This had to be one of her jokes to trick him into ‘feeling jealousy’. He had work to do, dammit! He made as much known. “Honestly. Those two are respectful reapers, Sutcliff. You should stop whatever folly you’re playing at and get back to work. Need I remind you that the last report you sent in was vague and inconclusive? We are in need more insights. Now.”

Grell flinched back, tears pricking her eyes. “But Will-” 

“I said now, Sutcliff.” His tone was cold - his gaze even more so. Alan took a step forward to speak up, noticing the unfairness of the events. How could William be so cruel? Eric was quicker. “Ey! ‘At ain’t fair, boss! Grell’s tellin’ the truth! Ask Alan.” He crossed his arms over his chest, a frown marring his handsome features. “I saw that. In fact, all the reapers at the Reception did. She has witnesses” The redhead turned to them, toothy smile in place. “They called me an ‘it’ and asked me if...if I wanted to join Zacharias’ bed tonight. They said I was easy; that I gave myself freely.” She peered at her Supervisor through her dark lashes. He seemed to consider it.

“Humphries, Slingsby, please leave us.” The two protested, but ceased at William’s pointed glare. They gave encouraging smiles to their friend and left the office. It wasn’t like anyone ever said anything about not eavesdropping in the hallway though.

Back in the office, things were a bit different. The Dispatch Supervisor looked down at the Officer. “I have heard rumors myself about you,” she appeared to be about to interrupt, but he held a hand. “Rest assured I believe them untrue. Though the image you yourself give out does nothing in your favor, Sutcliff.” She pouted, sinking into her seat. He remained unfazed. “In all the years I have known you, never have you stood up for yourself against it, never have you tried to act differently. Tell me why now of all times, you seem interested in stopping it.” He ordered. She nodded, but knew it would be hard to say. 

“...I guess I was scared.” Her voice lacked the flamboyancy and high pitch she trained it into. It sounded deeper - more masculine. Surprised was an understatement for what the generally emotionless reaper felt. “I-I know I’m not normal - to your standards, at least. I’m a ‘gender confused lunatic and a slut’, as everyone puts it.” She used quotation marks, hands lazily doing the gesture as her eyes hardly stayed on him. “I never said anything because I was too scared to do it. I- I know I say I’m strong and whatnot, but that’s not true. I’m just not who everyone thinks I am.” Her arms wrapped around her shoulders, mimicking a comforting hug. Her throat felt constricted. 

“It hurts when you’re pushed away, when no one likes who you are. I know enough of that since before I came into the Academy. It simply hurt less when people disliked something I was not. Acting is so much better, because you know it’s not real; they dislike something that isn’t you. That’s why I never bothered to stop pretending.” A few saltine tears leaked down her cheeks, her hands hastily scurrying to dry the evidence. She sniffed and continued, finding it easier to confide this to the Supervisor at his softened gaze.

“But that’s not enough, is it? I mean, people still pushed me away. It withers one down, Will, when you have to act so damn much. When everyone hates what you appear to be and no one - no one- cares enough to try and figure out what’s wrong. My mask was flawless, you know. Not even you thought I was in pain. So you see? If people didn’t like me, that’s one thing. Yet for no one to even want to figure out who I am, it hurts. It hurts to hide because you’re so unsure of yourself. It hurt because I knew that if they didn’t accept - let alone like- me before, how would they now?”

She sighed, William’s face being shifted onto an unusual comforting expression. “You said it yourself, why now? What changed, Grell?” He spoke her name softly, voice laced with kindness. He knew he was one of those he mentioned. The ones who brought her down. Seeing her so broken...he knew he had to make it up to her, even if he might never be able to fully mend the damages they had caused.

“Because I’m tired. I want to be myself. I am perfect, William, just the way I am. I’m a lady - dreadfully limited by someone’s stupid idea of putting a woman’s soul in a man’s body- but a lady nonetheless. I am passionate, I don’t care what they say about me now. I am who I am and that’s all there is to it. So what if they don’t like me? I still have Ronnie, Alan and, heck, even Eric - despite whatever I do, they stick with me. I love red, I’m a hopeless romantic, I’m a deathly efficient Reaper, I love to draw and to cook. I’m a flamboyant flirt that reads too many novels, I’m a dreamer. I don’t carelessly invite people into my bed, never my heart...I wish to be a mother, to have my own children one day, even if I know I can’t possibly conceive them. That is who I am. And for the longest time I’ve been hiding it, not once trying to change your views on me, out of fear.”

Her head was now raised, looking directly at the eyes identical to hers. 

“I don’t want to hurt myself any longer. Neither physically nor mentally. I have enough scars on my skin and my heart. A few nights ago I realized that I’m perfect for myself, something I should’ve always known. From then on I’ve wanted to respect who I am, to respect my body and my reputation. I want to be able to show who I really am - no more faking.” Her tone was proud, her posture as well. A smile graced her face as she stood and placed her hands on her hips, the left one jutting out a bit. Her composure was slowly coming back, giving her the courage to keep going. She was determined to not be affected anymore by what those two idiots did. 

Those morons can’t handle a lady of passion such as me~

“I’ll leave you to your work as soon as you have the harassment filed out, darling.” She flashed him a smirk accompanied by a playful wink. The effeminate sank back into the chair observing him. He seemed unaffected, other than the phantom smile on his face. “I’ll get to it in just a moment, Ms. Sutcliff. Please fill out these forms so I can submit it.” The smile that Grell beamed at him almost broke her face in half. She happily took the quill and papers, filling them with her elegant script. All the while William considered the redhead in front of him. How wrong he’d been all this time. He knew he had hurt her, probably more than most. And she still came to him. He felt sick, pathetic even. How low had he gone? How hadn’t he noticed the broken state the other was in? Her hands brushing against his when she handed them the papers, bringing him out from his thoughts.

“I’m done with those. I’ll get back to my investigation now, Mr. Spears.” She giggled, covering her mouth delicately with her glove-clad hands. “I’ll send you a more elaborate report once I’ve got a concise read on what we’re dealing with. Until then, Willy~” She waved her slender fingers in goodbye, swaying her hips as she walked to the door. There she paused briefly to blow him a kiss, promptly leaving afterwards.

“Honestly.” 

He sighed. Though this time, there was no subordinate to notice the small smile that tugged at his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you have noticed, I use the female pronouns for Grell, but when I do use the male pronouns’, it’s because some other character is referring to her as such.


	7. Don't lie, I know what the Books say

The redhead reaper didn’t catch wind of Alan nor Eric upon her exit. Huh, they must’ve had a collection to get to. Who she did see was her beloved little apprentice, Ronald. Eagerly he went over to her upon noticing she was out of their superior’s office. 

“Sempai!” He practically glomped her on the spot, crushing her in a powerful hug. “R-Ronnie! What’s all this?” She returned the hug, enjoying the embrace. He held her at arm's length, inspecting her. The ‘Knox Grin’ was plastered on his face, which seemed to beam brightly, his eyes catching the light, making them glow. 

“I’m so proud of you. You showed those morons who’s boss! Nobody ain’t gonna mess with you anymore.” He laughed merrily, holding his senior. “Drinks’ on me tonight, whatcha say? After your investigation?” Grell nodded enthusiastically. “Of course my dear.” There was a moment’s pause. 

“And how did you know about that? You weren’t there, were you?” He shook his head, flipping his two-toned hair about. “Nope. Alan and Eric wanted to eavesdrop on your conversation with Spears-Sempai, but they couldn’t hear anything. I think he has a silencing spell in it. Anyway, they told me before heading to a reaping they had somewhere in the outskirts of London.” He explained as they went down to the Great Library. 

“Oh, yes. William does have some charms to keep the noise to a minimum in his office. Remind me to knock some sense into those two bull-headed reapers when we see them, alright darling? They ought to know not to pry into a woman’s personal business like that.” They exchanged a laugh, and the request was agreed by the younger playfully. “Though they did the right thing, telling me.”

“How so?” A perfectly shaped brow came up in an inquisitive expression. He grinned. “I’m your little brother, right? As such, I have to do everything I can to keep my big sis happy, even if it means to punch a few suckers in her name. Anything for my special Sempai.” He gave her that winning smile - but it didn’t hold any intentions of dating in the future. It had a boyish charm and she couldn't help but smile right back. She loved the little Reaper. He indeed was the younger brother he claimed to be, in her heart. “Thank you, Ronnie. I’d do anything for my little brother too.” She crushed him to her, mimicking his earlier attack.

The pair went into a comfortable silence. She held him close, relishing in the comforting embrace. They headed over to the Great Library, getting strange glances from a few of the reapers. Some looked like they wanted to say something, yet kept their mouths shut for fear of the red reaper's wrath. They had seen the spectacle between him and the Office Bullies, Zacharias and Gregory. They didn’t plan on receiving the same punishment as those two - or worse.

They entered the structure, barely wondering at the amazement of the architecture held before them. Such a sight was common to them. The redhead lead them past the Ledger’s Section - the one where everyone’s ledgers were stored - and into the actual ‘Library’ section. The pair passed the books on Reaper History, Anatomy and Biology, Technology, Literature - though Grell vowed to get her hands on one of those books in the near future- Cooking, and went straight to the Supernatural’s section.

“Uh, Sempai? Why’re we here?” He skimmed through the spines of the books, running his hand over them. “The murder was performed by a Supernatural. It wasn’t a Demon, Reaper, Angel, Vampire, Werewolf or any other common creature. I asked the Undertaker, and he said the murder appeared to be made by a mortal. I need to find which creatures are human-like to narrow down the search. We can cross out banshee. It wasn’t one of those.” She searched the list of titles placed on a book-stand, but none caught her eye. 

“And how are you sure it wasn’t a Demon? You know Michaelis is hungry by now.” He decided to help her get whatever book she needed, so now he too was shifting through the covers. “There was no Demonic Aura there. No Demon would hide their aura -a trick that’s only available to the highest ranking demons- to get three ‘poor quality’ souls. Besides, it was a Supernatural Aura. I don’t know for what, but it was.” Ronald just shrugged, hiding his internal awe for his Senior. She was a lot smarter than what she liked to show, he noted. Not that he didn’t know it already - it was still amazing to see her being so open. 

And everyone thinks they know everything about her, tch~

The bicolor haired and the redhead searched for hours, only stopping when the clock chimed nine. “I guess that’s it for now, Knoxie. I’ve got enough reading material for tomorrow.” Ronald nodded, putting back the books they wouldn’t take. “So, we’re going out for drinks or what?” His senior piled the books in a neat stack, counting a total of eleven encyclopedia-thick books. 

This is going to be hell to carry. 

“Sure. Help me check these out and put them in my office so we can go?” The youngling took half of the stack in his arms and lead the way to the counter by the exit, Grell following soon after with a smile. She took a slight detour to the Literature section, picking the first book to graze her hand. A giggle left her lips at her silliness. She caught up with Ronald with a few strides and little jumps. 

The lady at the counter greeted them and started the short process. “You are Dispatch Agents, right?” They nodded eagerly. She smiled at them, handing them the books as they were scanned. “Either of you happen to meet the Undertaker on occasion? He’s overdue for a while now.” She passed them the last one, Ronald easily putting it into his pile. 

“I’ve encountered him as of late,” said Grell. “Do you want me to contact him on it?” The woman nodded. “Oh, only if you don’t mind my dear. I would really appreciate it. The Higher ups are beginning to breath down my back for it.” The exchange was over and the young reapers left once more towards the Dispatch Offices. They quickly entered and simply placed the books on Grell’s desk.

“So, what club, Sempai?”

Silence. There was a number of decent places that had opened up recently. The variety was good, but what to choose?

“Same as always?” 

A nod. “Might as well.”

“Same as always then.”

They grinned, racing out of the Dispatch and onto the streets. They arrived at a small pub they frequented on the weekends, taking their usual booth and ordering their drinks and a few things to snack on. Alan and Eric came along when Ronald called, so the four of them spent the night cracking jokes and silly stories. 

After one too many drinks and way into the night - possibly even morning- Eric didn’t speak english anymore - nothing understandable, at least. Ronald was mostly there as well. The other two exchanged a look, pulling them to their feet and calling it a night. “I’m taking Eric home. See ya at work, Grell.” 

“Night, Alan.” They parted ways with their respective charges. “Ronnie, you’re crashing in my place tonight.” she muttered to herself. There was no way she’d pull the boy all the way over to his place when hers was much nearer. And when he weighed more than one would think. 

Grell pried him off her shoulder once they arrived, fishing the key out of her pocket and inserting it in the lock. The sound of a soft click rang through the otherwise silent air. She heaved him into the couch and placed a pillow below his face. She removed his glasses, placing them on the coffee table and the shoes beside it. Grell got a blanket from the linen closet, placing the fabric over his lithe frame and tucking him in tightly. Like any doting mother would do to her son, a kiss was placed lovingly on the boy’s forehead. “Goodnight, Ronnie. Sleep well.” She headed to her own room to get ready for bed.

“I need to work on that.” She looked at the paused progress of her artwork. The night she worked on it seemed so far from now. “Tomorrow. Tomorrow I work on it.” She vowed to herself before falling into the world of dreams. The word echoing in her mind.

xX ⌐⌐ Xx

The sunlight poured into the room, kissing pale skin. Acid eyes blinked open. “Damn, I wanna sleep.” Regardless of that, the reaper got up, stretching like a cat, her back arching. She bathed and dressed for the day. When she walked out to get her breakfast, she noticed the blond-and-black haired reaper on her couch. She sent him a fond smile, deciding to prepare them both something to eat.

The smell of hot chocolate and cinnamon oatmeal roused Ronald from his sleep. Everything was blurry, and wait…

“What the hell!? This isn’t my house!” He shot up in panic, eyes in a frenzy. His head protested and he cried out in pain. A red blur stood before him in a second, whispering soothingly into his ears. “It’s okay, Ronnie. You’re in my place.” She placed the thick-rimmed spectacles on his face, instantly clearing his vision. “S-sempai? What am I doing here?” She ran a hand through his hair and back. “You got drunk last night, so I brought you here. It was closer than your place.” She got up and went to serve them. “Breakfast is in the kitchen, feel free to come by when you can move without a headache.”

Well that’ll take a few minutes.

Grell put the food on the table, sitting herself for breakfast while she waited for her apprentice. A few minutes later he stumbled in, crashing onto the chair. “You’re a mess.” he ignored her jab at his bedridden hair and overall appearance, shoving a spoonful of the oats into his mouth. He ate in silence with his senior, neither caring to say a thing. There were moments where silence was more than enough. When he was done, he thanked her and left to his own place to get ready for work. William wouldn’t care if he had drank the night before ‘A reaper always performs his duties, for they are separate from their personal lives.’ He had once told him. 

Yeah, thing is, you don’t have a life. Work is your only life. And watching the Pigeon Races.

Meanwhile, the other reaper headed to the office, greeting the receptionist as every morning. This time, she asked her for a few tips on makeup, and Grell willingly gave her the best she knew. A lady always has to look her best, especially if she wants to impress someone, right? The redhead had giggled at the girl’s light blush before parting. 

Her office was bright, and she had to admit, it was much better walking into this one rather than having it the way she did before. It was simply much more comforting. Knowing it would be a long day or reading ahead of her, she pulled her favorite vinyl from a drawer and put it on the gramophone by the corner. A smooth tune began to play and the music relaxed her. She picked the first book of her findings, getting a start on the long job to come.

By lunchtime she had only finished the first three, and none had anything relevant for her case. “Such a bore. What is a lady like I to do?” She wondered. She already had had to change the disks about three times, right now being the fourth. She forewent eating - she wasn’t hungry and was very frustrated at the lack of results to eat. But it was so boring. There was nothing useful in those books. She decided that she needed a break, and took the literary book she had picked out the day before.

“The Legend of the Necromancers. Seems interesting enough.” She flipped to the first page, finding it a rather dark theme by only reading a few lines. In the next hour, she had devoured the story and a light turned on in her head. There was a moment of sudden realization and she instantly dashed off into the mortal realm.

She ran through the rooftops, wondering why she portaled in through there this time, if she already knew where she had to go. The musty shop soon came into view and she leaped through the remaining rooftops, landing neatly before the door. She pushed it in, the darkness assaulting her eyes. 

“Undertaker? Are you in?” An eerie chuckle came from a coffin. “Well, well, m’lady. I didn’t expect to see you so soon. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you like this old codger. Hehehehe~” The man motioned for her to take a seat, the other complying and completely ignoring his remark. “I need information, Unnie.” She beamed a cheshire smile at him. He laughed, “But of course you do. Tea?” She nodded, taking an offered bone-biscuit. He served her in a beaker, but she didn’t complain. It was funny- and weird. Just like the man before her.

I only hope there were no organs in this before.

“So, what does the lady need this time? She’s been coming a lot as of late.” She took a sip before answering. “Necromancy. What’s there to know about it? I need everything you’ve got, legend.” She winked at him, turning her attention to her drink. 

He almost dropped the beaker her was holding. ‘Bullocks! She’s too close!’ His eyes were thankfully hidden under his fringe. He hated to admit that those truly were windows to his soul. They could never lie. And the flirty way in which she had asked him painted a layer of pink on his deathly pale skin - once again thankfully hidden by his bangs. 

“Alright then, give me a First Rate Laugh!” He grinned to his insides, preparing himself so he wouldn’t laugh at whatever she told him. “Who makes it, has no need of it. Who buys it, has no use for it. Who uses it can neither see nor feel it. What is it?” He shrugged. A grin split her face. “A coffin.” She said it so seriously, she almost looked like William. His stomach tickled and a chuckle escaped his lips. “Hehe~ Pff. Sorry dearie, not good enough.” He held his sides, trying to subside to his funny bone. He could not - under any circumstance- hand her any information. She raised a brow, obviously not buying it. Her beaker was cast aside as she stepped towards him. His bangs were unceremoniously lifted from his face, exposing what he so wished to hide.

“Are you really lying to a lady, Undertaker? What a scoundrel.” She gave him reprimanding look that turned mischievous. “Whatever shall I do about that, handsome?” Her smirk grew and he blushed at seeing her so close. She was very pretty, he noted. “Can’t blame a man for being bored, can you, m’lady?” She pushed herself back, smirking. “Humph. I guess I can’t, but I still have an investigation to complete.” She gazed at him with gleaming eyes. “And I don’t plan on leaving without what I need, darling~”

Uh-oh. I am so screwed. 

That was his last thought before the red reaper leapt forward to attack.


	8. Dead Ends are passed by with Friends

Uh-oh. I am so screwed. That was his last thought before the red reaper leapt forward to attack.

xX ⌐⌐ Xx

They crashed onto the floor, red and silver hair flying through the air. Her legs encased his torso and hands pinned him by the shoulders. She grinned evilly at the other’s surprised expression. “Let's see, what to do with you, liar?” He sputtered incoherently, seriously considering on taking out his scythe on her, but that would only risk it further. He decided to let things go as she wished for the moment. “I really ought to bury you in salt once more, scoundrel.” 

“Mercy, m’dear! This old fool was only playing around!” He tried pushing her off, but the heel of her palms dug into his shoulders to prevent him. 

“I wonder,” she drawled, “What would an old fool like you be hiding? You’re awfully tight-lipped today.” He chuckled underneath her, laughter being his ‘natural’ response to any uncomfortable situation. She cocked her head to the side, simply staring down and unsure of her next move. “Hehehehe~ I’ve got nothing to hide. I simply want to laugh more than what I usually do. There’ve been hardly any customers as of late, so I’m quite bored these days.” He nudged forward, but she remained firm. 

“So you take it out on me?” He gave her a sheepish grin and shrugged -as best as one can while being held down, which was admittedly an awkward move when she almost crashed on him. “As I said, can you blame a bored old fool like me?” She sighed, moving back and crossing her arms over her chest, though otherwise remained seated on his abdomen.

She glared at him through her lashes. “If I really make you laugh, will you tell me what I want to know?” He pondered for a moment, then nodding. He would simply have to take the risk and keep lying. “And do I have your word for that?” And inquisitive brow shot up. He could only try not to laugh. “You want the word of a scoundrel?” He asked, naming her past insult.

“Your word as a mortician, darling.” It was enunciated with enough danger that he knew it was meant seriously, she was not calling him pretty names for the sake of it. “I’ll give you my word, m’lady.” She leapt to her feet, and he found himself missing the slight warmth and pressure on his torso. He kicked the thought out of his mind. She was only a pretty reaper he liked to mess with. Nothing more. 

The mortician went to his feet, standing at full height to show he wouldn’t be intimidated. “Well, dearie, give it your best shot. Just know I don’t plan on giving in easily.” A sinister smile rested on his face, the scary image only highlighted by the fact that his eyes were hidden. She returned the gesture, but her eyes shone with acidic venom of golden-jade. “I was counting on it,” her voice a drawl, she moved like a cat towards him, coming to stand toe to toe. A sly smirk came to place, “I wonder...since you like laughter so much, would you by any chance be… ticklish?”

He laughed. He laughed and laughed. There was no way to restrain it, there was no way to stop. Her hands glided over his torso and exposed neck, ghosting over his skin. This had gone so terribly, yet he was enjoying the sweet torture. He cried from laughter and his sides ached. She didn’t yield, only furthering her attack by moving her fingers towards his armpits. Thank Death he’d been wearing boots or she would've gotten to his feet - truly, his weak spot.

There was no escape, for the legendary reaper was once again tossed to the floor by the younger one. For added measure, she made sure to step on his chest, digging in the heel of her boot slightly. “You’ve laughed enough. Now talk.”

Daring and commanding, she looked like a conqueror. He took a few minutes to settle down and self-consciously wipe the drool off the corner of his mouth. “Alright, alright. A deal’s a deal.” She slid away from his body, allowing him room to stand. Ebony clawed hands wiped off the dust that had fallen on the black robes. “Allow me to retrieve a book for you. Sit down, have a biscuit if you’d like whilst you wait.” She sauntered over to the nearest casket, flipping her hair back and a confident smirk in face as he went to the back.

‘Damn it. This better throw her off my trail.’ 

He came back into the main room, somewhat drawn into the beauty sitting on one of his finer works and munching on his favourite treat. He presented the book to her, to which she grabbed with curiosity. “That should cover your needs. It has all about the Necromancy Legends, I think even some of the rites. For the price you paid me thinks I should give you more,” it had been very entertaining, and he didn’t complain when she touched him - no one had dared do that in such a long while he had forgotten what it was like. “But you see, this is all I’ve got on such rare cases. Mayhaps Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, could give you some insight, as well as entertainment.” He was acting normally again, so the upcoming cackle was completely natural. 

“Are you sure this is all you know?”

He nodded, “Absolutely.” She scoffed. “Really? In all of the hundreds of thousands of years of life you’ve had, you expect me to believe that you have never encountered anything about Necromancy?” He shook his head in denial. “They are occult, that is all I know. Well, that and the general idea that they bring the dead back to life.” He shrugged. He liked her wit, but it was troublesome for him at the moment. 

“And you being the eccentric you are never wondered about that?” She tried to glance at his eyes, they were the kind that could hide nothing, but there was only a curtain of silver-spun hair to meet her Reaper eyes. “Yes, I admit I took a momentary fancy to them. Who would dare wake the dead? Who even had the power to do such a thing? I’ve thought about it, but as a Reaper, I’ve never been able to investigate such things. Technically, once a soul is reaped, it can never be regained. After that, my interest in such things quickly dwindled, and I started to pursue the dead.” He shrugged again, feigning distaste for such affairs.

She huffed, tired of this cat and mouse game of chase. “Thank you then. I better get to this.” She went to the door, looking back briefly. “Hopefully I won’t have to see you any longer under such circumstances.” She flashed him a flirty smile, suddenly remembering the Librarian’s request. “Oh, and by the way, Mrs. Darcy wants you to return the books you’ve borrowed. Says you’re long overdue.” She giggled and left, not bothering to see his reaction. He waved with an air of fake cheeriness. Once the redhead was gone, he frowned. He’d forgotten about those.

“Hopefully so, Little Red.” He stormed to the back of the shop, to where he kept his precious experiments. “Soon, my dears. We are almost ready for our big Debut.” He spoke into the darkness. There was no response as he left, his creatures lay asleep. The mortician went back to the main part of the shop, ready to receive any new guest - or new test subject, easily slipping back on his own mask.

xX ⌐⌐ Xx

The Red Reaper went to London, using her adored Death Scythe to climb the walls on the Big Ben. She settled on the very top, snuggling to the wall for shade. She adjusted her crimson-framed spectacles and went to work. So much to read, yet so little to do. Oh William, so cruel! You know I can hardly stay still~

She giggled at her thoughts, though soon focusing her attention on the other’s book. It had yellowed pages, smudged ink and even some moth-bitten holes. She had to squint her eyes at times so that she could focus on what was written, some of it slightly faded. Yet at the end of the day, there was not much to be said on Necromancy itself. It only spoke of the Seven Bells and the Nine Gates, and it only mentioned what they did. She would keep the book, but she knew that once a soul was reaped, it would pass to whatever came after. Some Reapings went wrong and ghost were created - others simply refused to leave this earth; but to have someone wake the dead? It had to be impossible. Humans didn’t have such power. Then again, the murder was human looking, but not mortal.

“Urgh, this is going in circles! I’ll never get anywhere at this rate!” She ranted, standing up and pacing desperately to vent her frustrations. “A woman and her two children were murdered on East End by a non mortal. There seems to be no reason behind this. Their bodies have been disposed off, so there is no way to be sure what killed them. Something old, or very vague and unknown, for not even a Legend could identify the aura. Powerful? Maybe, however… the aura wasn’t hidden. Perhaps it was only growing in power, and needed human souls?” She stopped. “It is possible. Human souls have the most energy, other than the Supernatural’s souls, but those are much harder to take. Maybe the creature wanted to gain power, so it started small, as not to attract that much attention...or could only manage that much. In the first case, it could be that the creature is underdeveloped, but it has intelligence, on the other hand, it just could’ve gotten lucky.” Her hands went back and forth as she fought over which idea to believe. There were too many open questions left unresolved.

“Though what creature could it be? What, other than a Demon, takes souls? It makes no sense. And a Necromancer? Is that what the creature was? Was that the one who killed them, only so that they would serve as test subjects? It sounds plausible, but then...why not take the people already dead? It would surely lead to far less trouble. Yet they chose a hindu family, whose bodies are cremated, instead of preserved. This means the criminal doesn’t know much about that culture, so it couldn’t belong to it.” She sat at the edge with a sigh. It was sunset already. She hadn’t eaten all day and was exhausted. “I need to rest. I won’t get anywhere like this.” The redhead jotted down those notes on a spare journal she kept on her since the investigation began. She leapt down the side, opening a portal below her to head back to her home Realm.

The other side opened up, the orange hue of the sky lighting everything in a faint gold. She hadn’t thought of where in the Realm she wanted to land, instead only dreaming about a nice cup of warm tea and a hot meal. Perhaps some good company. She almost laughed when she saw she had arrived at Mary Ann’s Flower Shop. “She did say to come by more oftenly.” With a smile, the door was pushed open, and the soft smell of flowers of various kinds wafted through the air.

“Hello! Mary Ann, it’s Grell.” The elder reaper came forth, holding a moderate bouquet of roses and lilies in pastel pinks. “Oh, hello dear. Do come in, how have you been? I heard of what happened at the Library, with those two Reapers.” Grell went over to the motioned chair across the counter that separated the main room from the back workshop. She sighed, picking a strand of hair to play with it. “I’ve been doing better, thank you. Though that was a slap to the face. I’m glad Alan and Eric helped me out after that.” The woman of caramel locks intertwined with white from her age sat on the other side, offering her guest a cup of tea - just as she had wanted. She sipped the warm beverage, enjoying how it felt as it went down her throat. It was relaxing, and she felt the day’s taxing tension slip away, if only for a minute. 

“How nice to have such good friends. Your apprentice came by today, wanting to buy flowers for one of his dates. He told me of how you put those in their place. I couldn’t agree with him more, they got what they deserved and you, my dear, are doing much, much better. I’m proud.” She gave a soft, reassuring smile. “There aren’t many like you, and that’s alright. It simply makes you special, and to have such a nice flower torn, it is a sin. Beauty is not all a flower like you is, you are also dangerous for your thorns, and that is what you have shown. You are much more than what meets the eye.” Her aged hand came to rest atop Grell’s covered one, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Tell me, what have you been up to, dear?” Grell’s eyes watered, but no tears fell. She smiled. “William put me up on some investigation in the mortal world. It was a murder by a Supernatural, but we don’t know who the criminal is. The murderer is definitely strange, not within normal parameters. This case has got me running in circles, and it’s only been a few days!” She drank more of the tea, wishing for its calming effects on her vexed nerves. “Dear me! I do hope you find them soon. But let's not talk about work now. How has your life been as of late? I want to know of the Reaper that is so unique, even to this world.” The two talked into the night, tears were shed and comforting hugs were handed. There were so many years of emotional pain that had been bottled up for so long, finally let free completely. Mary Ann was by no means her best friend, but she was a willing listener with a kind-hearted soul. A kindred spirit on the lookout for those in need. Grell had never been so happy to meet someone in her entire life.

“Goodnight, my dear. Do get some rest. You’ll need your wits for tomorrow.” She waved as the other went out the porch, waving also. “Goodnight to you too! Thanks, I will.” She went back to her apartment, taking the time just to walk and stare at the beauty in which she lived in. It was a starry night, the moon shone bright and the wind danced with her hair. It was peaceful, and she reveled in it. It felt so good to be home, mostly, because finally, it felt good to be herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Seven Bells and the Nine Gates that are mentioned are not mine. They belong to the 'Old Kingdom' book series by Garth Nix. I haven't read the books, but I heard about those and got an idea. Also, Undertaker’s plan is actually canon in the Manga, but with a few tweaks on my behalf so it would fit into the story.


	9. The Relative who she forgot to Interrogate before

She went inside her home, but rather than falling asleep,as she had been advised, the Reaper picked up the dagger. Last time, she had managed to curl the ends of the letters ‘P-e-r-f’ into a fancy, cursive script. Today, she would finish that with the other letters and head to dream-land.

The thin blade met the wall, slicing into it with ease. That was the easy part. The hard one was getting the right shape. The curves weren’t something to be taken lightly, so she would slow down and carefully, ever so gently, she would trace the line with the tip before pushing in the blade. She gave it a thought, and realized that perfecting this etching on her wall, was like her life. She had a goal to get to, and to do so, she had to do the best she could. There were obstacles that would impede her from getting to where she wanted, and as a stubborn crack had demonstrated earlier, things wouldn’t always go as she wished them; she could only think away around those problems and do whatever she could with whatever was at hand.

A smile -one of those silly smiles that seem to appear for no reason at all- came forward onto her face. It was a giddy one, and it wouldn’t leave her alone. It stayed in place as ever so slowly, the pieces started to come together. The word was carved elegantly in her wall, looking proud, though undone. There was another thing she had learnt. You may have an idea originally, but as time goes on, and you experience new things, that idea may evolve into something you never even dreamt of before. That is exactly what happened then. She had wanted it carved, but then took a look at it and thought it would be better if it stood out, coming out of the wall.

“That will just have to wait. A lady needs her beauty sleep, after all.” A soft laugh escaped her lips. There was another lesson learnt; patience was a virtue. She had of course wished to finish up the project right on the spot, longing to see the finished result. As she thought of it, why would she want to be done with it so soon? This was a small timeframe of her life dedicated solely to herself. Here, she reflected and thought without thinking. Here, her fears were faced and demons exorcised. She discovered new things about herself, and after this, no matter how tired she was, she would be happy that she had dedicated this to herself. It was her medicine, her pick-me-up. There was something so deeply entrancing about the activity, and it was that it made her delve into who she was. The redhead’s mind would wander freely, with no one to censor her thoughts or tongue.

She remembered the night she wrote the word. It came out scribbly, distorted and rough. Tears of bittersweetness were pouring down her face, and back then, she felt liberated for the first time in a very long while. From then to now, a short timespan as it was, she had changed and evolved. She had taken the reins, causing changes she had never thought herself capable of.

She got to her feet, picking up the tools and placing them neatly in a box. That was promptly shoved under her bed, and the dust was cleaned up with a dampened rag. She stretched, feeling the pull at her muscles and reveled in the soothing feeling. She groaned in pleasure, falling back into a relaxed position. Her clothes were cast into the hamper unceremoniously as she stripped. Grell walked over to the chest at the foot of her bed, pulling out a red nightgown. She place it on the bed, intent on retrieving it after a well-deserved shower.

The water was warm as it pelted her skin. The soft scent of vanilla and rose soothed her worn body. The slow humming of her favorite romantic tune, combined with the heat and the scents, took her to a state of relaxation. She felt clean, and surely now she would sleep so much better. She dried off, wrapping a towel on her hair and another on her chest. Silently, she padded over to her room and took out her brush, calmly pushing it through the knots and tangles in her crimson locks. It felt good, therapeutic even. She separated it three, making a simple braid with it. Damp hair was not exactly comfortable to sleep in, especially if it stuck to your back.

Her next step was to apply a facial mask. She might be ‘evolving’, but this wouldn’t change; the pride she took in keeping herself so radiant and well kept. She smoothed oils on her skin, finally donning her nightgown. A smile overcame her, contented this time - as she lay on her bed, clutching the covers under her chin. She closed her eyes, feeling pleased at the overall events of the day. “Yeah, nothing beats being who you are.”

 

xX ⌐⌐ Xx

Investigation Report Code: 00965

Case Number: 152467

On April 17th 1888 there has been a murder of three mortals by the names of Alisha Deshmukh, age 29, Danvir Deshmukh, age 9, and Nishith Deshmukh, age 9; to be collected by Dispatch Officer Eric Slingsby. There were no souls upon time of collection at 9:27 PM, East End. 

Investigations began April 18th 1888 by Dispatch Agent Grell Sutcliff. Cause of death remains unknown, there were no notes on Officer Slingsby’s ledger. Upon investigation it was discovered that the murder was performed by a Supernatural with human traits. The aura given off remains unidentified - matching none of the known auras of the Supernaturals up to the point.

Investigator’s Statement: “It might have been a creature beginning to grow, seeking for power with little to no intelligence. It could have also been one growing, but with much more intellectual capacity than estimated. Whichever the case may be, we know it needs souls to increase in power and to survive. I suggest it is a new form of Demon, yet there is not enough evidence to prove it. Another suspicion that I have - as impossible as it may seem- is that a human and a Supernatural are working together to achieve a common goal, for which souls are needed. There is hardly anything concrete on this case, as everything is mostly theory extracted from vague facts.”

Investigation Report Handed in by: Gerald Heaths

Dispatch Supervisor: William T. Spears

He put the paper down, sighing at the Reaper sitting across him. “This is awfully uninformative, Sutcliff.” The paper was confiscated into its respective folder, though his eyes were focused on those identical to his. “Will, darling, that’s all there is. I’ve been to the crime scene, I’ve talked to Sebastian, I’ve gone to the library, heck, I’ve been so much to the Undertaker’s he said that if he didn’t know better, he’d think I like him! I am doing the best I can, but with no bodies, no witnesses and nothing to use as a lead, there isn’t much I can do.” she moved her hands about as she explained. The Supervisor considered her words. They were true, but he wasn’t willing to accept defeat.

“Alright. I understand.” He sighed again. The redhead noticed his tension, feeling slightly sympathetic. “I’m not pleased about this either. I have more investigation to get to, so I’d better be off now.” She stood and squeezed his shoulder comfortingly before swiftly taking her leave. He stood surprised, she hadn’t thrown herself at him nor made any lovesick comments about ‘what a handsome cold gaze’ he had. He let a soft smile come to his face. If she was putting down her mask, then maybe he’d be able to crack his?

 

Grell walked around mortal London, keeping an eye out for anything unusual. So far, there was nothing. 

Maybe I should go see Bassy? No...he’s useless for me at the moment. 

Well then, she’d just have to find out more about this whole ‘Necromancy’ business and see who was capable of such a thing. From what she had read, Necromancers were humans with exceptional capabilities and soul strength. They wielded the Seven Bells: Ranna, Mosrael, Kibeth, Dyrim, Belgaer, Saraneth and Astarael to control the bodies and souls of the deceased. This she had gotten from the Undertaker’s book. Though upon further inspection, it appeared that this book belonged to a literary section - not historical or factual.

“But sometimes, the most amazing stories are the hidden truths.” She brightened at the realization. Everything that was written under a guise of a silly fiction novel, could be infact hidden data. A case like that had happened years ago, she recalled. It had been one of the most entertaining assignments she had worked on. If this was anything like that time, then maybe, she could find the mystery killer. The one behind all of this madness.

Madness. Madness went hand in hand with the town’s eccentric mortician. No one had a dosage of it as high as him. Undertaker. Last time she was there, he was very tight-lipped, and not only because he was bored. No, he had to be hiding something. In her favorite mystery novels, the villain would be hiding in plain sight. Is that what Undertaker was doing? Could it be him, the one rising their corpses from the dead? He was morbidly fascinated with them, it was possible. And his mask. He was not an old loon of a Funeral Director. Weird, yes, but not some codger. He had something hidden under all those mourning robes and silver fringe. He knew more than he let on. This little gift was supposed to distract her, to lure her away from him, but it did quite the opposite. 

This was the lead she needed. Her silver lining. All she had to do, was pretend to play his game, act the fool. Not even the Dispatch could find out about this. William was blunt in that aspect, and Ronald was a great kid, but she would rather leave him out of this unless it was absolutely necessary. There was no way her little brother would go around messing with the big boys if she could avoid it. Eric she could trust, but if he got drunk and conversations went the wrong way… well, she wouldn’t dwell on that. His brunette partner though, he would be perfect! Alan was her guy for this. He knew how to be discreet and to keep silent. If she got him in on the plan, she could have eyes on the inside while she was off investigating.

Wait...what plan, exactly? There was no plan! 

She groaned, climbing a tree and sitting at the top branches. There had to be something she could do. Her time was running out. Murderers hardly ever stopped at their first kill. She should know. Her and her beloved Madam Red’s bloodlust for those whores was never sated. It only kept growing. This meant that whomever was killing and, if she was right about the Necromancy, then that person or Supernatural would not stop soon. They would want to be noticed for their power, or if power was not an issue, they wouldn't care if someone found them out. He fit that description, Undertaker. A secret, and enigma that he was, shrouded in darkness and mystery. A mortician to the mortals, but a Legend to her kin. Dressed like that, he had two identities, and it would be hard to tell if the second one existed, they were so unlike. But there was a thread, tying them into one person. It was the perfect disguise. He had power, a great deal of it, and all the Reapers knew it, but to the mortals, he was weak. No one would be none the wiser if it came down to him.

“Now, all that’s left to do, is to sew everything together.” She jumped from her perch, landing with a soft thud. Her heels clicked as she walked back to the main streets. Yes, Undertaker was a good suspect. She was sure he knew more about the mortal deaths than he let on. So what if he didn’t have the usual amount of time with his ‘guests’ as he usually did? He knew how to fully examine a body within the hour. There was more than than enough time from when the bodies arrived and the Yard or the relative got involved to perform a legitimate autopsy.

A thought ran through her mind. The relative! Of course! The bodies may have been burnt, but the relative that retrieved them had to know what they bodies looked like. If anything, a description on the corpse’s state might lead to possible identification of the killer. After all, what had given her and Madam Red away was they way that the murders were performed. She decided that a small visit to this mystery relative would be beneficial, she started heading over to the East End once more. Passing through the mortals, she got many strange looks. Grell remembered then, blending in was essential. Fiery red hair and unbelievably pointed teeth stood out too much in this Realm. Grinning sheepishly, she ducked into a nearby alleyway.

Her transformation was simple and performed efficiently. Once red locks took on a caramel charm, followed by blunt, squared teeth and mudded hazel orbs. Her spare set of spectacles replaced the ones she typically wore. Her reflection stared at her from a puddle, and she noticed that the red coat was out of place for this ‘detective’ or ‘private investigator’ feel she was going on about. A more formal coat would have to replace it for the time being. Perhaps a black trench? That would certainly make her act all the more believable. 

‘But where to get one? I’ve got no mortal coin on me now.’

Through the mouth of the alley, she saw a fine gentleman pass by, an idea coming along when she noticed the male’s ebony trench. It wouldn’t be her best deed, but after mercilessly butchering those whores specifically not on the To-Die List, how bad could stealing -ahem, lending without permission- possibly be? Besides, she planned on returning the favor by handing the coat over to the homeless kid a block away when she was done. He wouldn’t be anywhere near a To-Die List if she could prevent it for now. And those were the thoughts that ran through her mind while the act was swiftly done, the man left unknowing of how it happened and the Reaper leaving with a satisfied smirk. 

‘Hmm...nice smell. I like it’

She strolled down the streets in her flawless guise. A red ribbon from the Ripper murders was slipped into place, tying her hair elegantly. A few ways down her path, she crossed onto another street, the Indian civilians coming out of the surrounding buildings to see the foreigner.

“Hey! Who are you? State your business!” A group of men surrounded her, all of them in defensive stances. She knew no real harm would befall on her, but made a show of acting all mousy and scared. “P-please wait! I-I’m only here to investigate a murder.” One of the men stepped forward, holding out a knife. “Are you with the Yard?” She shook her head, “No, sir. I’m Private Investigator Alan Slingsby, contracted by Prince Soma Asman Kadar. He wishes to know what has been the cause of this unease, since the Yard will not intervene.” They seemed to deliberate for a minute, but then she was lead to a building a few feet away.

“There lives Asman Deshmukh. He is the father and husband to the victims.” She was shown to the second floor, third apartment on the left. The man was thanked, and took his leave. She knocked and waited to speak with whom would be a light in this encasing darkness.

xX ⌐⌐ Xx

By the end of it, she was sure Undertaker was involved, but couldn’t piece everything together to prove it. The man had seen bite-marks on them, pieces of skin ripped off. It was sickening, but he had undergone with his tale, fearing that the same might happen to one of his companions. He had also mentioned a stab wound on each of their chests. It didn’t look as if a sword or dagger had caused them. It was different, and he knew it wasn’t a knife, for he worked at a restaurant and knew how cuts and stabs looked.

“No, it seemed completely out of place. Somehow, out of time.” She had listened patiently and taken notes on the states of the corpsed. The last detail had captured her attention, and now she was sure that a Death Scythe had been used. The out of time comment made her think of the Undertaker. He was an ancient, and original, so he was bound to have one of the older model scythes.

Grell got up, thanked the man and said her condolences before taking her leave. She kept walking around the town, unsure of what to do with the information given and what her next move would be. The homeless boy from before appeared on the corner of her eye, waving a newspaper. “Extra! Extra! Read all about it! Aurora Society revives the Dead!” He sang, calling out the news. Perplexed - for when do the dead ever not stay dead? - Grell went and with a shilling, paid for the paper, also handing the coat to the shivering child. He had stared at her, wide-eyed with surprise and gratitude.

She left, now more confused than ever. The dead were rising, souls went missing and apparently, there were no Demons involved in this mess. Just what exactly was going on in the world these days? She didn’t know, but she was sure as hell finding out and making the bastard pay. 

Ladies like me don’t do overtime.


	10. To the Realm of Death

She reread the paper for the hundredth time the next morning over a cup of coffee. Tea was not strong enough for her to deal with all this as of late. This was absurd, ludicrous, lunacy... there was not just one word for this madness. Sighing, the redhead swallowed the remainder of the drink in one gulp, placed a few coins on the cafe table and left. There were things she would have to discuss with Alan, and the sooner she got to it the better.

The portal opened in the brunette reaper’s office, startling the poor Reaper. “Gah! Grell don’t scare me like that!” He admonished, to which the other simply shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry, Al. I just needed to talk with you… privately.” Alan looked confused, but nodded and locked his door nonetheless. “Sure. What do you need?” He sat in his chair and motioned for her to do the same in one of the others. She took a seat, tossing the paper in his direction.

“My case is almost solved, and I think it has something to do with the new one we’re going to be assigned. The dead are rising.” He looked through the papers as she explained, yellow-green eyes widening considerably. “Grell… are you sure? What if this is some sham?” 

“It’s not. I don’t think so at least. Humans are strange, but they can’t claim outside of fiction to rise the dead without sounding so. If they are claiming it so publicly, and by their respectable sources no less, then there’s something true about this. Also, I think that this is what the past murder was trying to achieve. Kill to have a specimen to wake up later on.” They sat in silence, pondering.

“Even so, why come to me? Shouldn’t you be telling William about this?”

“Yeah, but not really.” He lifted an eyebrow. “William is too blunt, you know that. He would head over to the mortal realm demanding answers. I have a theory, but to prove it, I need more time. If I tell you -and you accept this proposal- then you can help me.” Alan glanced over at her. “And I suppose I can’t tell this to anyone?”

“No. Not yet, at least. Look, I think the Undertaker is involved in this, okay? If he is...well, I don’t care to think of what could happen now. I just know that it’s gonna cost us a lot of overtime.” Alan sighed. “Alright. I’ll go along with it, but if even the slightest things start going wrong, I’m telling Spears.”

A crushing hug was delivered to the smaller Reaper. “Oh thank you,thank you! You won’t regret this, Al!” He laughed, patting her back. “Okay, okay. What do you plan to do now?” She let go, smirking. “I intend to talk with the Undertaker.”

“Are you sure that’s wise? I mean, I don’t know him, nor have I talked to him personally, but he seems a bit..uhm..”

“Crazy, out of his mind? I’ve been called that before, can’t be too hard talking to one of your own.”

“I meant deceitful. You can’t trust him.” She smiled that cheshire smile of hers, sending uneasy shivers down his spine. “And who said he could trust me? I know how he works, because I’ve noticed we’re quite alike. Neither one of us conforms to the rules, we don’t bend and we both -or at least I don’t do it anymore- hide under masks. I’m an actress to die for, I can play my part.” The man exhaled a puff of air. “Fine, just be careful. Contact me if you need anything.” He threw her a concerned glance as she left through the door. “No worries, Al. I’ll be alright.”

xX ⌐⌐ Xx

Back at the mortal realm, she appeared in the Undertaker’s shop, right before the mortician embalming his latest guest.

“What in the blue blazes-!” He yelled as a blur of red appeared out of nowhere right before him, falling to the floor. A chuckle was heard. “Tsk task Unnie-darling~ That is no way to treat a lady guest, is it?” She reprimand from her perch in one of the examining tables, toxic eyes burning with concealed intent. “Well, excuse me, m’lady, but guests commonly use the front door.” He grumbled, getting up. He was in the middle of preparing one of his ‘children’ and couldn’t afford any interruptions of any kind. As amusing as she was, Grell was intruding too much today. “Is there anything specific that you needed? I am rather busy at the moment.” He stood up, resuming his work of closing up the wounds on the corps, pointedly ignoring her.

“No, nothing really. Sorry to disturb you. I just...I- uh, just forget it. I’ll leave and be back another time.” She sighed, putting on a convincing kicked puppy face. 

Why am I doing this? he thought. 

“Oh, it’s quite alright. You simply caught me off guard and I haven’t been having such an amusing day. Why don’t you wait for me in the main room? I’ll be up in a second.” She happily simpered over to the door, casting him a wicked glance. “I’d be delighted to have your company. Don’t keep me waiting for long, darling.” Giggles left as she did, and once more he wondered whatever was he doing with himself.

He quickly finished stitching up his guest and cleaned up for his other ‘living’ guest. The mortician found her laying on one of his casket’s lids, arms falling to the sides and hair splayed like a curtain of red. Her head came up as she heard her footsteps. “Oh, that was quick.” He shrugged, “I’m good in my practice.” He sat on another coffin, looking her over. “What brings you here today? Not for more information I hope. I’m rather embarrassed to admit you’ve drained me of what I’ve got.” He added a macabre giggle to keep up his facade. 

At her blush, he became interested. “Oh-uh… we~ell. It’s just that this case is not going as we would like it, and it’s causing a lot of overtime. William is more frustrated than usual and takes it out on me with his stupid Death Scythe. I’m the one in charge of the investigations after all. He threatens to cut off my hair to the length I had it back at the Academy if I don’t show any progress soon. I guess I just needed a break from the Dispatch for a while and you were the first person that came to mind.” She sat up, vibrant hair covering her equally red face. The confession that she was the first to come to surprised the madman. “Why come to this dreary mortician first, m’dear? Certainly you’ve got other people that would be glad to alleviate you of your miseries.”

Bright, toxic eyes stared into him. “Not really. I don’t have much friends outside of the Dispatch -and not even there do I have many. They’re all busy and with no time for me. I would be pestering the Demon, but he is as cold as ever, and I wanted to actually have a nice conversation without someone hitting me, for a while. Perhaps even a good laugh, it’s been some time since I’ve laughed for real.” She smiled softly, staring at her hands that toyed with crimson locks. Undertaker mentally slapped himself at what he was about to say. He cursed her and cursed himself a few times in his mind for measure.

“Well then, you can stay with me for today. You are good company, and I would be delighted to have such a pretty lady around me for a while.” He couldn’t believe he had admitted it, but nothing could be done now. It was the truth anyways. Her eyes lit up and he simply had to admire it. “Really? Thank you!” She jumped up, crushing him in a hug. He awkwardly returned it, not being used to being shown affection.

They spent the rest of the day together, exchanging stories and silly anecdotes through tea. She helped clean up a few coffins and dress up some of the corpses. By the end of it, she left with a smirk. She had felt the same aura in his shop as the one in the crime scene. There was now no doubt that the Undertaker was orchestrating some kind of mischief by meddling with life and death. Likewise, Undertaker knew she hadn’t come just for his company. He wasn’t sure what she had been trying to gain from the visit, but was a tad disappointed when he found her true intentions.

He went back to his makeshift lab to continue his work. He had already lost all day by playing along to the redhead’s games. It wouldn’t do to lose more time.

Xx ⌐⌐ Xx

Grell decided that it was time to put her plan into action. She pulled out her phone and dialed Alan’s number. It ringed a few times before he answered. “Grell! Now’s not a good time…” There was shuffling on the other side and she smirked. “Al, I won’t keep you from your handsome lion for long, I just need a moment.” She could practically feel him blushing, and heard the other making an excuse about being called by a drunk Ronald. “Alright, but make it quick!” She laughed. “Okay, okay. Listen, I need you to return the books in my office to the Library, but leave the one of ‘The Legend of the Necromancers’. Also, if any new information regarding my case or the Aurora Society shows up, copy it into my computer. And I mean anything at all. Whatever you hear, put it there and send a copy to my e-mail.” They hung up and she faced the world below her perch.

So much to do. I wonder if I’ll be able to finish it off in time. 

She thought as she flew down the tower. The first thing she had to do was to head over to Mary Anne’s. She’s been around since the Undertaker’s time, and was sure to know a thing or two about said man. 

The little bell rang, and out came the elder Reaper. “Sorry, but I’m afraid it’s - oh Grell. Dear, I thought you were a customer. Come inside, take a seat.” The redhead did as told, placing the Undertaker’s book on the counter. “Hey, sorry to bother you this late. How have you been?” The other paced around the room, putting this and that back in their place. 

“Oh, not much dear. Though I think you’re student is making a more frequent appearance in this place. Tea?” She came to sit next to her, procuring a tea tray and pouring the cups at Grell’s acceptance.

“Thank you, I just might need it.” They sat in silence while they sipped at their tea. Once done, they began to chat. “Is there something you needed of me, dear?”

“I’m afraid so. I’m having complications with my case, and I think I’ll need to leave town for a while - to gather all I need. I just had to ask if you knew anything about this ‘Cave of Souls’. I heard that’s where I can get answers.” The elder gasped, almost choking on her biscuit. 

“The Cave of Souls!? Dear me, what are you doing there, getting tangled in all that mess? Are you -” Mary Anne lowered her voice to a hushed whisper, “are you messing with the Deathlings? Not many know about them, and the ones that do don’t know much.” Calmly, Grell shook her head. “No, there’s no trouble with the Deathlings. You see, Undertaker is waking the dead, making them rise, somehow. I figured that perhaps a Deathling would be able to help, as he is a Legendary, and above all our powers.” Mary Ann settled down.

“Alright, but you must be careful. I have heard stories of the Cave. Not many, and it was very long ago when I did. I must have been around your age. To find the Cave itself is impossible… but to go in, it is not.” She said cryptically.

“Any cave can be the one you seek, but to enter the Realm, you must go through the Passage. The cave is not found, it is opened from any place. All you have to do is perform the opening rite, and it will let you through. The closest Cave - well, the one where the rites were last performed- is in Matlock Bath. Though for getting in, I’m afraid it won’t be that easy.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got an idea on how it works. I just needed the location. Thanks, Mary Anne!” She got up and embraced the woman. She returned the hug, patting her back. “Good luck, my dear! Hit Undertaker’s noggin for me will you? He owes me for a few shenanigans he made me pull, long ago.” They exchanged a laugh, Grell promising to do just that - and to hit him extra hard for all the overtime he was causing her and William.

She whipped out her phone, walking over to her apartment. “Alan Humphries, speaking.”

“Hey Al, it’s Grell.” she maneuvered her phone so it rested between her ear and shoulder while she fished her keys from her coat. “I’m heading over to Matlock, alright? Don’t tell anyone. I’ll need you to cover for me. Above everyone, don’t let Will find out, okay?” She heard a sigh on the other side of the line. “Sure. Any idea of when you’re coming back?”

“In about a week or two at most. I honestly have no idea. I’ll send a text as soon as I know.” He hummed. “Alright, take care.”

“You too, I’ll see ya soon.” She hung up, for the first time feeling dread creep into her being. She entered her room, instantly taking out her tools and tying her hair in a messy bun. She worked on her project, adding this and doing that. She spent almost all night on it, working without pause to ease her fears - until she fell asleep in a heap on the ground.

xX ⌐⌐ Xx

Morning came, rising Grell from her slumber. Almost automatically, she performed the morning tasks. Before she knew it, she was already heading over to Matlock by foot. It wouldn’t do for anyone at the Dispatch reading her portal’s coordinates and finding out about her endeavors. Grell watched as the scenery became a blur. The buildings and houses became more scarce, more and more green shrubbery coming into view.

The sky was unusually bright and sunny, heating her up. She was glad when she left London’s smoggy atmosphere and passed through the open plains. Matlock was soon in her view, the mountain Mary Anne had referred to prominent and tall. She entered the town and concealed herself as a mortal. There, she stopped for lunch and a while to rest.

As she sat in the cafe’s table, she glanced to the monstrous mountain, foreboding and impotent. She was soon done with her order, and paid the waiter, winking at him when he passed to collect the plates. He left, flustered and confused, and she with a laugh. Undertaker had the right idea, laughing was the best cure for almost anything. She slipped into the wilderness, casting a last glance at where she would be going.

Tonight, I’ll meet Death… how ironic, that I am Death too, yet I’ve never met him, and that I wish he welcomes me with open arms.


	11. The King, Anubis

Grell trekked through the mountain, not having a specific path to follow. At the base, there was a woman, old in age and covered in rags. A Banshee.

“Who may ‘at be? Master said not ta let anyone in.” Grell looked her over. She was slouched in on herself, wild eyes roaming about and thin brown locks flowing past her waist. She held a comb in her hand, and beckoned her with the other for a better look. “Who’s your master?” She asked suspiciously. The Banshee smirked. “The King of Death. Who else would it be?” Seemingly satisfied, Grell came up to the Banshee, though kept her Death Scythe ready.

“Take me to him.” Voice commanding, the Banshee could not object. They climbed the steep path, following the blackened earth until they arrived at the mouth of the Cave. From there, Grell’s view at the top of The Big Ben Clock Tower seemed pallid and boring. She saw everything from here, and it was amazing.

“Come, come, young one. If you must see the Master it best be urgent. We shan’t keep ‘im waitin’.” The Banshee drew a few symbols on the aged stone, muttering in an incomprehensible language under her breath. The etchings glowed an electric blue, simmering down to vibrant green and then yellow, before disappearing completely. The ground shook as the wall vanished, crumbling to the floor. Dust rose, obscuring their view, but the woman knew what was to be done.

“When ye find yerself on the other side, look for the Pyramid and avoid the rivers! Do not - whatever ye do- drink or touch the water! Watch fer ‘eh Jackals, they’ll take ye to ‘im.” With the warning, Grell felt a hand on her back, pushing her into the void where the wall once was.

Down and down she fell, feeling her stomach tighten in knots, not being able to see the bottom. She fell through the darkness, time becoming nonexistent and unneeded. There was no way of knowing how long she fell, but suddenly, she crashed to the ground, rolling down the steep ground. She kept going, until the ground evened and she opened her eyes. She stood, and stared at the new world.

There was darkened sand all around, rocks protruding in patches. In the far horizon she heard the massive sound of water rushing, crashing where it met with the imposing iron gates standing in the river. She followed it upstream with her gaze, and saw that the river was made up by five in total, joining at a point. She then looked the other way, seeing that all the water pooled itself into a giant marsh that lead to a frightful stop. 

Those must be the ends of the Earth. 

She marveled at the sight. Those rivers had to be Styx, Phlegethon, Acheron, Lethe, and Cocytus - the Rivers of Death. They - despite their name and importance- were hardly known to the Reaper Society, for they had long become abandoned in their minds, since the Reapers only collected and did a general judging to the souls.

Howling came from the distance, increasing in volume as a thunderous wave of desert sand flew into the air. Louder and louder they grew, Grell brandishing her scythe. The black spots in the distance became larger and more defined. Jackals. They bared their fangs as they approached, teeth glinting in the sun.

Behind them, rode a man with a Jackal’s head. He stopped a few feet short of her, pointing a spear in her direction. “Who are you?” He jabbed the spear, making Grell step back and lower her scythe.

“Grell Sutcliff. I’ve come to meet Anubis.”

The Jackal faced man lowered his weapon, stashing it in its sheath. His hands lifted the mask, revealing an olive-toned face and dark eyes with sharp features. “I am Thanatos. Master Anubis informed us of a possible arrival; I shall take you to him.” He bowed slightly, motioning for the animals to back off. His right hand grasped the Ankh tied on his neck, making it glow a vibrant blue. Another horse erupted from the sand, apparently having been summoned by him.

“Get on Akashi, and follow me.” Surprised, Grell obeyed the Jackal masked man. The horses instantly took off, the force behind the pull so strong that she had to grip the reins tightly for fear of flying off the massive creature. They raced across the deserted plains of ashen sand and rocks, passing by the roaring river of Styx. It had the most ferocious waves of all the five rivers, the Nine Gates of Death standing proudly open, allowing the ancient floats to pass, ferrying the dead souls.

She gazed at it in awe, never having seen something so majestic in her entire existence. She kept staring as they rode, but her attention was soon stolen by the towering pyramid they were gaining on. It was enormous, filled to the apex with crevices and vined plants creeping over one of the sides. She admired the view, feeling slightly insignificant against the looming structure.

The horses came to a stop at the grand entrance. It was made of tan, dusty stone, and guarded by obsidian giants with spears. They were decorated in all kinds of gold, silver and precious stones, glinting in the sunlight. Thanatos came down from his horse, and went over to Grell, giving her a hand as a true gentleman. She couldn’t help but tease him over that.

“Oh my, what a gentleman! Do you do this for all the ladies or just for me?” The other smirked. “Not usually, you must be special.” He winked playfully, to which she blushed. People never followed her games, it was a refreshing change. 

“Come on, my lady, the Master awaits.” He offered his arm, like any doting gentleman, and she latched on with a giddish smile. “Well, we must not keep him waiting any longer.” The two walked through the halls, passing by various guards and other paths. They made small chitchat on the way, and became fast friends. When they arrived, Thanatos opened the doors to the Throne room.

In the center sitting in the grandest of thrones was the King of Death, Anubis. He painted the picture Ciel Phantomhive tried so hard to achieve, the one of regal, powerful, royalty - and with natural grace. He had the head of a jackal, as the mortals depicted him; his trousers were loose, and had a navy and gold sash running along his hips and down the white linen of the pants. Olive toned ankles were decorated in the richest of gold bangles, the same as for the toned arms and neck. He wore no shirt, exposing a muscled chest, strong and smooth. His eyes were colored like sapphires, glinting with wisdom far beyond his looks. His thin muzzled graced them both with a smile as Thanatos bowed deeply, announcing their presence. Grell, unsure of how to behave, decided to follow the other’s lead, and bow as he had.

“Rise, my children. I welcome you, Miss Sutcliff. What an honor, to have you in my Temple.” He rose from the throne, the edges of his muzzle twitching upwards. “And thank you, Thanatos. You have done well.” Thanatos smiled at the compliment as the redhead basked in the knowledge of being referred to as the woman she was.

“Come, let us sit and converse. I believe you and I have much to discuss, Grell. I have been waiting for your arrival for a few years now.” He showed them over to a set table at a hidden corner in the room, pulling a chair out for the lady and one for himself. Thanatos excused himself, and made a hasty exit.

“Now then, Miss, how is it you found your way here?” He poured her a glass of water, passing it over along with a dish of finger fruits. She accepted them eagerly and without question. Though she had to wonder, it was strange that he serve her himself, instead of asking any of the servants to do so. Taking a sip of the ice-cold beverage, she responded. “A lady has her ways. Mostly, it was a book given to me by a Legendary Reaper and the advice of a friend.” The King nodded. “It must be a really old book then - and a really old friend.”

“You’re quite right,” she agreed. Then she remembered his comment on waiting for her arrival. “If I may ask, how is it that you were expecting me? Can you see what goes on in the Mortal or the Reaper Realm?” There was a sly grin on the other’s muzzle, but it hid a hint of sadness she wished she knew how to stop.

“It doesn’t matter at the moment, the answers will be revealed in time. For now, I would like to know what your purpose of coming is.”

Grell knew this would be hard to explain. “There was a recent case, in the mortal Realm. A friend of mine was assigned a reap. The problem was, that when he arrived, the souls he was supposed to collect were gone. We figured it must be a Demon, but there was no essence or anything like it. I was then assigned to investigate, and so found out that - possibly - a Reaper is tampering with the souls and bringing the dead back to life somehow. Though, the Reaper in question happens to be the Undertaker. He is an Original and a Legend, far above our powers. I figured if anything, I could come for help here.”

There was a pregnant pause. The King didn’t move, the idea too surreal for him. Reapers could handle the Cinematic Records, not the actual soul and essence of the being. How was this possible?

“Excuse me. Revive the dead, you say? How so?” He looked at her quizzically, and she felt like cringing under such a stern gaze. “Just as I said, sir. He intends to reanimate the corpses. Or that’s what I believe, I haven’t fully grasped the situation. He is already able to have them moving without a soul. For what purpose, I am unsure. The Undertaker is quite the unpredictable being.” Slender fingers picked a strawberry, biting into the delectable fruit.

“And would there be another reason you came here?” Anubis had seemed to absorb the idea, the gears in his mind hard at work. “Simple curiosity, I guess. I read about the Legends, and got fascinated by what I saw.” A laugh was shared between the two. It was surprising to her, how he was so amiable, so charismatic, and be what everyone at some point feared.

“I believe there to be another reason for you coming here, Miss Sutcliff.” Cerulean orbs shone with mirth, and a hidden secret. Following his playful lead, Grell obliged. “Oh really, sir? Whatever could that reason be, that I don’t know myself?” 

“Your father.” He smirked. She was stumped.

“My - my father? I don’t quite follow.” She stared at him. How could her father be the reason she came here? He had died when she was around eleven. How was that possible? Reapers and Deathlings didn’t have much interaction throughout time. It was ages ago, long before her father she was sure, that the last interaction came to place.

“Aye, I knew your father. Brave Reaper he was. Jaeger Sutcliff, one of my most trusted men, and a dear friend.” His canine face took a gentle exterior, somewhat nostalgic. “When you read about this place, about this legend, you connected with it. Your father’s spirit beckoned you here; it wasn’t only your curiosity.”

Mixed emotions swelled inside Grell. This deity of theirs, had been so close to her father? To her confidant, best friend, creator? “You’re serious?” She couldn’t help but ask. It had been so long since anyone had said anything about her family, she constantly forgot she had once had them.

“Oh yes. Deathly serious, my darlin’.” He winked playfully, to take the somber out of her mood. It proved to be useful, as a tiny smile crept on her sharp-toothed mouth. “I was in fact, awaiting your arrival for that reason. I had hoped your father had left something of the Deathlings behind. Something that would lead you here, seeing as I cannot travel to the mortal realm myself. There’s only so much I can do at times.” She smiled at her father’s memory.

“He wanted to bring you here, one day. He wanted to show you our world. Your father thought you’d make an incredible General to my forces. From what I’ve seen, he wasn’t too off mark.” His voice was sweet, laced with amusement, and something else, something far from his reach.

“I honestly have no words for that.” Grell confessed. “I honestly don’t know what to say. Why would he think that? I was young when he died.” Tears started to prick at her eyes, but she wasn’t sure if it was of happiness at hearing her father’s praise, or sadness at being reminded that she’d lost him.

Anubis stood, jewelry clinking and clanging delicately as he moved. Strong arms surrounded her, offering a comfort that had not been shown to her in a while. It was different from Alan’s comfort, or Eric or Ronnie’s. It was...fatherly. It was the embrace of a parent, something that she had been deprived of for so long. She welcomed it without question.

“I am not only known as ‘King’ or ‘Master’, to all of the Deathlings. Sometimes, they call me ‘Father’; but that doesn’t mean that I don’t act like one all the time. Your father was one of them, and as such, I consider you one of my own. You are always welcome here. I would very much like to see how right your father was. Lieutenant would be a good start, wouldn’t it? You have so much power in your soul already.” He chuckled, letting Grell have her vent of emotions.

“Lieutenant?” She perked up, wiping away the tears.

“Precisely. Our forces rise from Soldiers to Chief, to Lieutenant, to Captain, to Commander, and finally, General. I think you’d make a splendid Lieutenant, you definitely have the guts and the skills.” He ruffled the top of her head, just like her parents did in her early childhood. Though that wasn’t the sense in which she had asked the question, she appreciated the thought and confidence in her abilities.

“Of course, that would be given if you wanted to join our ranks.” That certainly gave her a stop. “Join your ranks? I mean no disrespect sir, but I stand with the Reapers. I came to you to ask about what could be done in regard to the Undertaker’s specific case, not to join a new force.” Anubis was not even disappointed - well, only slightly.

“I thought as much. I just want you to know, Grell, that whenever you wish, you can come. You are part of our family. Also, siding with us does not mean you will leave the Reapers. Your father was both.” He pat her head. 

“I believe we’ve talked enough of serious matters for today. I’ll have Thanatos take you to your room for the night, and tomorrow morning we will discuss both issues further.” He left the embrace, pulling the redhead to her feet. “I have some business to attend at the moment, so I’m afraid I won’t be attending dinner. Such a pity.” Anubis lead her to the door, and called for Thanatos. “I shall be seeing you soon, Miss Sutcliff.” He made a slight bow, and departed.

“Come on, Miss Grell. I’ll show you around the Realm if you’d like.” The man, only a few years older than herself in appearance, offered. His mask was cast aside at the moment. “My shift already ended, it’ll be fun.” 

“Are you asking me on a date? How forward of you, darling.” She teased.

“Perhaps, I just may be.” He replied, a smug grin. A horse was summoned, appearing under Thanatos, and making him rise to look like Prince Charming. “Ride with me?” He extended a hand. Smirking, she took it eagerly. 

“I accept your invitation,” she said coyly, “ Where to first?”


	12. Breakfast with Death

Grell lay on the plush bed, hugging one of the lavish pillows to her chest. A few hours ago Thanatos had shown her the entirety of the realm. They rode past the rivers, watching the Charon take the souls to the Marsh, before dropping them off at the edge of the waterfall.

“The Charon are paid in danakes for their services. They ferry the souls to the Marsh and give them a key for the doors to their afterlives. From then on, no one but Anubis and Osiris know what happen to those souls.”

That’s what he had told her, and she was fascinated. There was so much more to Death than what was taught to them in the Academy. And it had been so much fun when he’d let her take the reins of Akashi. It’d been ages since she’d had the chance to ride. The two spent the entire afternoon simply exploring the caves, the rivers, pyramids and towers - she was exhausted. It was the same feeling she got after a good reap. Later he had offered to treat her to dinner with a few of his friends. She had easily agreed and they had left to a small parlour where they served the most exquisite steaks she’d ever tried. Meeting Xibalba, Hel and Lady Death was an extraordinary experience. None had the prestige of The King, but they were all well respected in their cultures and within the Realm. Still, their company had been as pleasing as the King’s and just as welcoming. They had indulged her queries, and even asked some of their own about the Reapers and their plane. She was all too happy to oblige.

The hours had gone by too fast for her liking, though they had promised to keep in touch. The stars were a beautiful contrast of white against the black skies. It was the first night in a while that she’d slept so soundly. It was almost regretful when the sun shone through the curtains, declaring the day had come.

There was a knock on the door, and Grell hastily adjusted her spectacles and hair to at least appear descent to the ‘intruder’.

“Morning, child.” She opened the door to reveal the warm figure of Lady Death, her ebony locks secured in her a bun with but a few astray framing her face. “I’ve brought you a fresh set of clothes for after you wash up. We’re all having a breakfast together with the King.” The folded fabric was handed over to the sleepy redhead.

“Hn~? Oh, thank you. Good morning to you too!” She smiled, showing her pointed teeth. “I’ll be down there in twenty minutes, is that okay?” Lady Death nodded, and departed, claiming that she was going to her own chambers within the pyramid to get ready for the day. Not wasting a moment, Grell did the same.

They had given her a set of black pants and a charcoal v-neck shirt. A pair of knee-high black boots with crimson laces was also handed to her. She noticed the material of the fabric - it was one mostly used by Reaper trainees when they took their Physical exams. Stretchy, light, but still resistant, it was perfect for battle when combined with armour, making her wonder what they would be up to that day. 

She walked into the incorporated bathroom, where she quickly stripped of her clothing. Looking into the mirror, she was amazed at what she saw. Her face was the same, only a bit softer on the features, more feminine. Her shoulders too, were different, not as wide as before. Gazing lower, she found two mounds that had not existed there previously. Her hands shot up to touch them, to assure herself that this simply wasn’t another dream. Those were real. Gazing lower still, she found that something was missing. It felt like morbid curiosity, but she had to know that she was fully awake. Her hands snaked down and sure enough, that area was not the same as before. In a sort of trance, she quickly bathed and slipped into the clothing provided to her. Quickly brushing her hair and tying it into a ponytail, she all but ran down the stairs, almost crashing into Thanatos on the way.

“Whoa! You’re as excited as Akashi when I say I’ll take her for a ride. I take it you slept well?” He tilted his head to the side wolfishly. “I see the effects finally kicked in.”

“Effects? What effects are you talking about? As much as I dreamt of being a woman, how is it possible that I am one right now!?” She asked, shooting one question after the other. He grinned at her.

“It’s called ‘The Cave of Souls’ for a reason, silly." With a more serious tone, he continued, "In here, we do not take our physical bodies, but we appear as our souls are. You have the soul of a woman, so as a woman you will appear for as long as you are in the Cave, despite your physical body. I think it’s weird it took effect a little longer than it should’ve, considering that once you step in, your soul takes over.” She was rendered speechless after that, smiling like an idiot at the news. “What’s up with you, you’re much too quiet, to be a firecracker like you are.” He poked her cheek playfully.

“I’m just processing this. I can’t believe this is happening.” He let her to her own world after that for a while. “Slept well?” She looked up at him, still grinning. “Yeah, the best in a while.”

“Good to hear. You’ll need the energy. And good morning to you.” 

Thanatos lead her to the Mess Hall, where Anubis, Lady Death, Hel and Xibalba were talking to a side. With them were two men that Grell hadn’t seen before. One had green-gray skin and an ebony goatee with wide, hazeled orbs, lined thickly with black, making them appear longer. He had a straight nose and wasn’t as muscular as Anubis. His robes were white, with a gold and blue sash sitting above his hips. The other man was pale, also with onyx hair that reached his nape and eyes as blue as icy flames. He wore a dark charcoal colored trench with a collared gray shirt and dark, navy pants. He wore combat boots, much like the ones they had given her, but instead of red laces, his were an electric blue.

“Thanatos, good of you to be able to join us on such short notice. Everyone, let’s take a seat, we have much to discuss.” Pleasantries were shortly exchanged between the Deathlings that she knew, and she secured herself a spot between Thanatos and Lady Death. Everyone sat, yet no one touched the food. They were waiting for Anubis to take the first bite. Grell wisely followed their lead.

“Before we begin, this is Grell Sutcliff, a Grim Reaper daughter of Jaeger Sutcliff. She’s the one that knows about the reanimated corpses and the one messing with the dead.” The strangers greeted her warmly- though there was a certain something in those cerulean orbs of the younger one, glowing in a way she couldn’t quite understand.

“Glad to make your acquaintance, Miss Grell. I’m Osiris, King of the Afterlife and Resurrection - as well as of Death.” He extended his green-gray hand for a shake. “It is a pleasure to meet Jaeger’s blood, after so long.” She flashed him a razor-toothed smile. “As it is a pleasure to make yours, my lord.” A kind nod of thanks was directed her way, though there was a doubt in her mind she wished to clear. Isn’t Anubis the King of Death?

The other man also extended his hand, but instead of shaking hers, he bestowed a gentle kiss upon her knuckles. “My lady, I am Commander Hades. What a delight to meet you, yet I must say, there isn’t a single ‘grim’ aspect on you.” Heat rose onto her cheeks, dusting them a light pink from the gentlemanly treatment. Still, she responded with ease and without stuttering - she wasn’t the Deadly Killer Queen of Flirt for nothing. “Oh~ the delight’s all mine, handsome.” 

It was then his turn to flush, and the others at the table got a kick out of it. Apparently, Hades wasn’t one to be fazed much, but this time, he’d been caught off-guard. He sent a half glare at all the members at the table, curling into himself a bit. “Yes, laugh it up. It was hilarious.” 

Anubis decided it was time to get things moving. “Alright, enough distractions for now, let's get to business- we have importants matters to attend.” Everyone settled down, each getting an exquisite bite after the Jackal-headed had eaten his.

“Miss Grell, you told us that a Legendary Reaper is ‘reviving’ the dead. Could you please explain and inform us of what you have found?” She swallowed the buttered toast and launched into explanation. “A few days ago, a friend of mine - Eric Slingsby- was assigned to reap three souls. Case is - there were no souls upon the time of the reap. I was then appointed to investigate this and figured it wasn’t any unnatural creature we’d ever encountered before. I then found about Necromancy - reviving the dead. I read and explored some more in the case, and theorized that Undertaker -the retired, legendary Reaper- was behind it. He is a mortician to the humans, and he knows more than anyone about the Cinematic Records, as well as being an eccentric.” She sipped the drink, soothing her throat before continuing. 

“After that, there was a report of an Aurora Society bringing the dead to life; making the Undertaker the only possible suspect. The Demon Sebastian Michaelis is incapable of conjuring said task.” She paused, deliberating her next words. “It’s why I came here for help. At the time of his retirement, the Dispatch was unable to take Undertaker’s Death Scythe, he’s that powerful. He’s going to keep altering the records and making more of those undead… things! They have no souls… no nothing in them, but Records - fake, most likely! As Reapers that’s going against our very purpose, against what we are, we simply can’t allow this. Furthermore, we don’t know his intentions for those abominations.” Her tone though even, held a slight hint of desperation and - she would never admit it- fear. Yes, she feared what the Undertaker might do with those creatures of his.

Osiris looked outraged, Anubis and the others were plainly disturbed. “He has done what!? I will personally slay him! How dare he mess with the dead like such! Only I can revive them, and that is not something I do freely - who does he think he is?” He seethed, his skin growing darker with his anger. Anubis placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “He has not achieved what you have, Father. He has only made them move - they still have no soul, but memories. The Undertaker will never have the control that you do over them.” The other members of the table distracted themselves from the commotion by sipping or biting into their foods, not wanting to interrupt.

The King of Resurrection breathed deeply. “My deepest apologies, Deathlings. I’m afraid my rage got the better of me for a moment. Please, Miss Grell, do forgive my rash behaviour. We shall resume our conversation.” His son exhaled, relieved. 

“By any chance do you happen to know what his real name is?” She shook her head. “No one in the Dispatch really knows. Perhaps Lawrence Anderson, he is as old as the Undertaker, so I suppose if anyone were to know, it would be him - or Mary Ann, too. If you could do me the kindness of getting me a bird, I can message my friend on the Reaper Realm so she could find that out for me.”

“I have a bird - Iris can inform your friend and then return with ease.” Thanatos piped in. “She’s fast, and won’t let herself be seen - only by who needs to see her.” The redhead smiled. “That would be great,” then a thought came to mind, one very important, “but what do we do now? With a Reaper less, Undertaker has it easier to snatch the Cinematic Records. I’m one of the most constant Reapers in the field, and around his area. We need to think up of something.”

Hel pushed back his sleek black hair. “We can train.” Everyone looked at him.

“Isn’t that what we were doing anyway? And if this Undertaker is so powerful, then we need to be ready. While the messages are sent and received, we will prepare to go against the Undead so that we can capture him. Him messing with life and death is against not only Reapers, but every other being as well. It doesn’t matter why he did it, it is wrong to go against nature that way. Somethings are not meant to be tampered with- this is one of those.” The members in the group looked at the others. “Except for perhaps Osiris, but he is the only exception.”

“Entonces tenemos un plan. I’ll get the Arena ready, Lady Death, mind giving me a hand? Thanatos, get Iris with Grell so you can send the message to the Reaper on the other side. Commander, we ask permission to enable the use of Soul Weapons.” Xibalba stood, setting out a plan. “My Kings, we shall take our leave. Thank you, for your most gracious offer of breakfast.” The Deathlings bowed their heads, and Grell hastily followed their lead. It was something she saw William do every time he spoke to the Higher, but something she rarely employed.

“Thank you for complying. If you do not mind, I would like to have a chat with Miss Sutcliff, for a minute. You can get everything else ready in the meantime. Meet me in the First Gate of Styx, when you are done.” The Deathlings and the Commander took their leave, the Red Reaper staying in her seat. 

“Now, Grell, there are some things I would like to discuss.”


	13. Peace Never lasts long in the Dispatch

The Dispatch was quiet. Way too quiet - he knew. Something just wasn’t right. He glanced at the clock on the wall, 1:45. Lunch Break was over. The Reapers were either on a reap, or filling in the according paperwork. And as he looked through the window in his office, everyone was doing what they should. No one gossipped, at least too loudly, which was strange. There were no comments out of line and overall, it was calm. 

This never lasts.

William was sure about it. At some point -it had to be soon- the redhead whirlwind had to return and make a mess big enough to disrupt the peace of the entire Dispatch. Deciding that he had to find out what was wrong, he piled up his work, setting it neatly in the corner of his desk and leaving his office.

The raven Reaper stopped at Ronald Knox’s door. He rapped on the door and let himself in after the ‘Come in’ by the youngster. “Oh, hiya Boss! Something ya need? I was just about to hand in the paperwork- don’t worry, it’s almost done.” He patted the pile of files on his desk to prove his point. “Mr. Knox, that is good, I’ll be expecting those soon.” He came closer, taking a seat in the empty chair. “But this is about something else.”

Ronald picked on the altered tone - it was almost… concerned? The dual haired set aside his pen and adjusted his thick-rimmed glasses. His boss never, ever, showed emotion. Whatever could be wrong? Not even the Jack the Ripper stunt had bothered him so much as he seemed to be now. “Well, what is it for, sir?” He had a sneaking suspicion this didn’t have anything to do with a promotion. “Your mentor, where is she? Sutcliff has failed to send in reports of any sort in the past week, as well as failing to return her Scythe at the end of a shift. It’s also been a while since she has even come in, I know she usually stopped by the Library at least.” Ronald sat back, thinking. William was right, Grell hadn’t shown herself in about two weeks. Possibly more.

“I haven’t seen her, boss. I just thought she’d been too busy, but now that you mention it… do ya think she’s alright?” A million uneasy thoughts crossed the young lad’s mind just then, eating away at him. “I mean, it’s Sutcliff-Senpai, she can take care of herself and all that -she had AAA in her Physical - and she has her Death Scythe, I’m sure,” He started pacing, worry getting the better of the boy. “But what could’ve happened? Surely something powerful had to attack her! She was investigating on creatures we’ve never seen before! We have to find her! We have to go and find Grell before-”

“Ronald Knox!” Said Reaper shut his babbling mouth upon the authoritative tone. “Calm yourself this instant, there is no need to be overly stressed. I will go ahead and talk with Mr. Humphries and Mr. Slingsby to see if they have seen Sutcliff. I will keep you informed of any developments, so let's not be hasty and mark Grell as missing just yet. She has been known to take time off without informing me before. Finish your work in the meantime if you would, it would not do us well to fall behind.” Ronald saluted - the same way Grell-Sempai had taught him - and sat right back down on his desk to fill up the last reports.

William nodded and took his leave, heading straight to the brunette Reaper’s office. Alan let him in, inwardly cursing at Grell for being gone so long and not telling him what to say in a case such as this. She knew he wasn’t the best at making up stories, how didn’t she think up of one herself? He wasn’t good at lying!

“Have you seen Sutcliff lately? She seems to be missing.” Alan shook his head, not trusting his voice. Technically, he hasn’t seen her. Sure, she had sent a rather cryptic text about what she was doing when he asked, and of when she would be returning, but had failed to send the fake story of what was supposedly going on.

“Almost two weeks since I’ve seen her, sir.”

“Have you heard anything on her whereabouts or when she’ll be back? Any information you have is important - I’ve been informed of an increase in Demonic Activity in surrounding towns.” Alan filled himself with dread. What to do? Grell told him not to say anything, but then again, this was an emergency. She had said a week -two at most. That timeframe had gone by and still no sings of her.

“I heard she was headed to Matlock for evidence on her case, and she said she’d return about this time. I’d give it a few more days, I’m sure she’s fine.” He tried returning to his work, but the Supervisor wouldn’t have any of it. “Matlock? What business does she have there?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

William’s stern gaze became colder - more calculating. “I suggest you put aside your work for now, Mr Humphries. You and I have some things to discuss, after all.”

Oh shit, I'm screwed~

xX ⌐⌐ Xx

The Undertaker hummed a sea shanty under his breath as he finished his latest masterpiece. It was otherwise quiet around the East End, the redheaded Reaper failing to appear for collections helped on that matter. It became easier to slip a few extra corpses for his assortment- the Dispatch Reapers were none the wiser. He giggled at the thought. His plan had worked, for the little Red hadn’t come by seeking information. A crow of his had informed him she had gone all the way to Matlock; very far indeed. “Hehehe~ And what could she be doing there?” Though, it was quite a shame she was so far away- she was always so entertaining. Dare he say it, he missed her antics and could use a little company, it was always so dreary it wasn't funny any longer.

Sighing at the unusual train of thought -for when did he ever desire company of Reapers?- he finished up and let the casket out to dry; his children had to be tended to after all. The Undertaker then gathered the necessary items and headed to the basement, a grim smile set on his features.

His children awaited to be awoken. And as any good father, he would provide them in their needs.

xX ⌐⌐ Xx

“It’s almost time for you to return, right?” She nodded, thinking back to these past years. Time passed quickly in the Deathling Realm - it held no real meaning anymore. “Well, it was a pleasure to have you, Commander.” Thanatos extended a hand, but the redhead only grinned, embracing him. “I’ll be back soon, silly! It’s not forever, you know.” She stood, beckoning the horses over. 

“I’m headed over to the Kings’ for my farewell, care to join?”

“Sure. Ankou!” He called for his stallion, jumping onto its back with ease. Grell followed suit, climbing onto Akashi. “Last one there cleans the stalls for a week!” She called, urging her mare on. Thanatos flew after them, taking the challenge.

They raced across the plains, smirking at each other. Dust was raised, stirring up a storm behind the duo. The rivers raged at a side, seeming to encourage the race. Charon ferrying the souls would look up at them and wave, some even calling out to either one. The Pyramid came into view, as astounding as ever.

Grell dug her heels into the mare’s sides, urging her on. “Akashi! Just a little more!” She felt the tensing and relaxing muscles of the creature, the sound of hooves on ground thundering in her ears. She heard the faint shouts of defiance from Thanatos, but ignored them as they pulled forth. She looked up, ready to taste victory. 

“Damn it! Not again!” Grell cheered, knowing she had won. The jackal-masked only laughed, knowing it was all in good fun. “Better luck next time!” She descended from the onyx mare, letting her body do a little spin, stopping in her signature move: winking, tongue out to the side and the death salute in hand.

“I’ll take in the horses, you go on ahead.”

“Sure, I’ll meet you inside.” She handed him the leather reins and dusted off her outfit - the exact same one they had given her on her first day, in fact; with the added bonus of a crimson, hooded trench and black gloves up to her elbows. The Guards at the door raised the crossed spears, bowing their heads as she passed. 

“Commander Sutcliff.”

She bowed hers in return with a razor smile. By now, she knew the path by heart - a comforting thought. She remembered her first day, finding everything awe-inspiring and mind blowing. To this day, that sense of awe had not faded - every single detail was entrancing. She passed a few more guards, most wearing jackal head masks, some holding the symbols of Anubis and Osiris , but all having an ‘Ankh’ on their person. Subconsciously, she reached for her own, laying casually against her chest. She have it a squeeze, instant comfort flowing through her veins. The doors to the Throne Room opened up, and she took a deep breath. 

This is it.

Striding in, her coat floated behind her, the King arose from his throne, tall and imposing as ever. His own robes he decided to adorn that day swishing as he descended from the pedestal to meet her. As was required, she inclined her head in respect, though her smile was ever-present.

“My King.”

“Commander, come to say goodbye?”

She smirked, leveling her head once more. “I wouldn’t be able to leave on a good consciousness otherwise.” 

“I’m thankful for the solution you brought me, that second day when you asked for my presence. I will take care of the ‘zombies’ in the Mortal Realm, appease the Reapers on that matter, and return - with Adrian Crevan for his trial and punishment here, as was decided.” Anubis nodded, his jackal ears twitching. “Perfect, you’re all set.” A cunning smile stretched on his face at his next words. “But before you leave though, my father wishes to speak with you. Follow me.” 

Shocked by the comment, Grell could do nothing but shadow the King as he traversed through the halls and into the hidden side of the Pyramid. King Osiris was never one to interact much, as she had learnt in her years of stay; unless he had something important to discuss. 

Whatever would he wish to speak with me for? She could only wonder as she was lead shown through the ancient passages.

A set of grand doors guarded by cat masked people came soon into view. These were unlike the ones at the entrance, they were taller, and much more adorned. Gold and sapphire were strewn on the statues; everything shimmering as if under the sun. The guards lifted their weapons and opened the massive entrance, bowing as they passed.

The room was pitch black, nothing could be seen - only the contours of Anubis' body were visible due to the small light from the open doors. 

“Leave us, my son. I wish to speak with her alone.”

She practically felt him bowing, despite that fact that she couldn't see, and then take his leave, the exit closing behind him with a thud. Instantly, light flared from the torches on the wall, illuminating the room with a yellowish glow. King Osiris sat at the end of a small table covered with a white cloth. 

“Commander, a pleasure to see you once more; it has been years, correct?” Grell bowed her head, “My Lord, a pleasure indeed. I thought time was not on this Realm - isn't that what you said?” She grinned. He returned the smile crookedly, as was his way. “So you have learned then. Take a seat, I have one last lesson for you; one much needed for what you will face.” He reverted to the stoic face, his features set in seriousness. Deep brows furrowed and all traces of the easy going nature diminished.

Wordlessly, she did as told, placing herself elegantly on the offered seat. His green-gray hands brought forth a set of seven tiny bells - the largest no bigger than a one-pound coin. They were all silver, and had an ‘X’ marked in the side, signaling that they were indeed, The Seven Bells of Necromancy. She could only stare at what she had only read about. Their beauty was divine, and so was their power.

“I am going to show you how to wield these properly. Only my son, his Generals and I know the sacred art, though I believe you are a worthy pupil, and as such, I shall teach you before you leave.” Unknowingly, her lips curled in a razor-edged smirk. This was a good stroke to her ego. “Well then, your Highness, we shall get started as soon as possible.” Her grin was like the Cheshire’s and the King started his lesson.

“Seven Bells; each one serving a different purpose. Do not confuse them - and whatever you do, do not play the wrong tune for each. This is an art of sacred and incredibly powerful melodies - only perfection is allowed at the time of playing them. Now, what are their names; in order if you will.”

The redhead thought for a second, knowing that she had, in fact, read the names before. “Ranna, Mosrael, Kibeth, Dyrim, Belgaer, Saraneth, and Astarael.” His face exposed nothing - sort of like William’s. “Very well. Now, I will teach you what each one does, and how they are to sound. Pay close attention, your success derives from detail.” She nodded, focusing all of what she had onto what was being given. This was a gift she could not refuse.

“Ranna is the one that guides the spirits back to their respective bodies, connecting them once more.” He rang the tiny thing, creating a sharp, high pitched sound. “Mosrael wakens them from the slumber, yet they will not move.” This bell -as little as it was- created a terribly loud and messy tone; for sure that one would wake the dead. “Kibeth will then grant movement to the now undead, but from here, it can also make them walk back to whence they came from, depending on how you ring it.” He picked it up, and at first, there was a low ring. “That is to return them. This,” He tolled it once more, making another sound - still low, but significantly higher than the previous one. “If you wish for the undead to speak - or to still their tongues- chime Dyrim. To return to them independant thought, memories and patterns of the living - or silence them, whatever it is you wish, you’d have to ring…” Osiris let his words hang, motioning with his hands for her to continue. She obliged.

“Belgaer.”

“Perfect, you’re learning well. Though I do not suggest using Belgaer that much, it is considered unwise.” She nodded, storing the information in her mind. “Saraneth is the one that will bind them to you. Up until before, they are their own creatures, yet this bell will make them obey you like a dog to its master.” The King performed the melody - controlling, demanding. “Finally, Astarael.” This was the biggest one of the seven and from his tone, the most dangerous.

“Astarael sends everyone - everyone but the ringer- who listens to it to the Rivers and into the Afterlife. Though, if you do not ring it properly, you will find yourself in the murky waters of The Marsh. Be careful with this one, more so than with the others.” The bell was rung, and she heard the beautiful tone, so clear and inviting. “This is all I can show you - the rest must be learnt on your own.” A kind smile graced the man’s face. He brought out seven diminutive pouches, and placed each bell in one. A leather belt was then brought forth, and the pouches with their burden were inserted in the set sleeves. “Here, those will be of help when you confront him. Do not use them unless it is completely necessary, it isn’t wise to tamper with souls. May the best of luck be with you, young one.” The prize was handed to her, and she accepted it gratefully.

“Thank you, my King. It has been, a most gracious honor and pleasure.” Grell flashed him a smile, “I will be sure to use your gift with as much caution as I can.” She giggled, taking a bow and heading to the door. “Be careful out there - and beat the man for me, will you?” A laugh was shortly exchanged and she was gone.

“So, how’d it go?”

“Perfectly. I’m ready to leave now.” The King’s muzzle curled into a broad smirk. “Then, your carriage awaits, my lady. It will take you back to mortal London’s outskirts. Remember you can summon Akashi and a jackals at your will, should you ever need anything.” He lead her over to said carriage, where her best friend from the Realm sat in the driver’s spot. 

“Thanatos! You’re coming with me?”

“Only to deliver you safely, madame.” He winked playfully. “We leave immediately.” She giggled, enjoying the attention. Grell bowed to the King in gratitude and good-bye.

“Parting is such sweet sorrow.” She got onto the vehicle, and waved, her eyes bright and hopes soaring. 

“Your father is proud of you - wherever it is that he may be.” Anubis called out, just before they formed a portal and vanished into the Mortal Realm.


	14. Emotional Connections

The Undertaker walked up to the back door to his funeral shop, stopping his horse so that he may unload the corpses from the wagon. Today had been a good day, he’d managed to sneak quite the hefty sum of cadavers for his collection. It took but a few minutes to have them all placed carefully in his basement and ready for the process to prepare them for their grand debut. He went over to the first one - a certain lady by the name of Margaret Connor. She would be the first debutant, the first reveal. Quite the pretty thing she was, yet that mattered not, he had a job to do. She would have to look her absolute best. The silverette tied his hair, picked a pair of gloves and his tools.

First, he had to remove the eyes and embalm her, then he could proceed to alter the Records. He made a cut from her chest to her stomach, and began his work. It was simple, and the efficiency of his hands incomparable - she was ready for the second part of the process within the half hour. Just then, there was a particular knock on his door. He cursed, knowing just who had come by. Grudgingly, his gloves were taken off and hair adjusted, ready to greet the unwanted visitor.

“Oh, Undertaker~ How have you been my ghastly mortician? I hope I’ve come on a good time.” The mortician groaned. “Aleister Chamber, what a delight. I was just finishing up on our most recent guests. Is there anything urgent you need, chap? I’m rather busy.” Uncaring or unnoticing of the man’s ire, the Viscount settled himself on a preparation table that had been deserted. “Oh, it’s not what I need, Unnie hehehe~! It’s what Mr. Rian Stoker wants.” He strutted up to him, poking the taller man’s chest and pulling out a ticket from his coat. To this, he only grimaced; what could the coward want? And Unnie? Hah, no one gets away with calling me that! Fine...maybe Grell. Only her! Wait..what in the nine hells am I thinking!? Focus.

“Oh, if that’s it then, what does Mr. Stoker want?” He grumbled, resigning to the fact that he’d get nothing done until the Viscount left - and pushing the Red Reaper from his mind. “Rian has planned a little expedition to America, New York to be exact - so we can commercialize the work of the Aurora Society - to start our Empire! We’re to leave by May 7th, from Southampton. Everything has been settled already. All the finished ‘guests’ will be picked up by the Karnstein Hospital staff belonging to our Society by the 5th and set on the ship. Here’s your ticket, mister. Don’t be late.” A slip of paper with elegant print was handed over and the flamboyant man (he didn’t carry it as good as the red reaper) bounded over to the door, “Oh, and Doctor Stoker also decided to gift you with a set of five and twenty cadavers for the collection. They should be arriving by tomorrow noon. Ta!” He left with a flair and Undertaker sighed. So much to do… and such little time. Oh well, he would be a busy mortician for the next few days, and he couldn’t deny that the idea of travelling interested him. Hopefully Grell would show her pretty face one last time, before he left.

xX ⌐⌐ Xx

“S-sutcliff! What are you doing here?” The stoic man was hardly taken by surprise, unless it concerned the Dispatch redhead. “Where have you been? None of the Agents have been able to contact you for weeks. No status reports, no appearances in the Library, no phone calls- ”

“Willikins!” She sat up from his office chair at the rant. “I’m fine. I told Alan I’d be in Matlock Bath, right? I said two weeks and here I am, a fortnight and two days later. Were you concerned, darling~?” The redhead strutted over to him, a file in her slender hands and a smirk in her face. “Here, this is what I gathered. I think we may need to discuss a few things with a small group of Reapers. Better keep this as quiet as possible.” He nodded. “Get your apprentice, as well as Alan and Eric. Will they suffice?” 

“Yes, they’ll be more than enough. I suggest you go over my reports, while I gather them.” Swaying her hips as she left, the strange feeling William had intensified. She was different - more so than he’d ever seen her before. Putting those thoughts aside, he read the reports to catch up. It never did well to be the Supervisor and be unaware of the ongoings on either realm. 

The brunette’s office door was open and he typed away in his machine. His partner sat in one of the chairs on the other side of the desk, filling out reports and files. More carcases were found without souls. Their numbers were in the high two-digits as far as they could tell, making them get overtime by the pile. Rapping the door and strutting in, Grell sat herself in a vacant spot on the desk.

“Afternoon, gentlemen. How delightful to see you.” Startled, they both looked at the red figure. “Grell! Ye’re back!” Eric exclaimed, dropping his things to crush the Red Reaper in an embrace. Alan too came up to hug her. “Ye got us worried, lass! Wi’ all ‘ese souls gone missin’, we weren’t sure what ta think.” Grinning, she hugged them back. “Oh, I’ve been just peachy, you big lummox. The caves in Matlock are simply something to admire! Anyway, William is holding a small meeting with the both of you, Ronnie and me.” Her tone became serious, hushing into a whisper. “It’s about the soulless corpses - and it’s better if it’s kept quiet. We’ll discuss what I found and possible ways of dealing with it.” 

“When?” Asked Alan, a frown forming in his face. “Right now. Do you know where I can find Ronnie?” Eric shrugged, but the brunette had an inkling on the youngster’s whereabouts. “He’s on a break right now, so I wouldn’t know. I guess he’s flirting though. The front desk might be your best bet.” She nodded, and ruffled the smaller man’s hair. 

“Thanks for covering for me this fortnight, that was very helpful.” At hearing that, Alan remembered something he had been meaning to say. “Oh yeah, Grell, before I forget.” 

“Yes, darling?”

He glared half heartedly, “Don’t ever - and I mean ever- leave like that and ask me to cover you without giving me a believable lie first! William almost found me out the other day and he gave me an earful! You know I’m not a good liar.” The redhead chuckled, and apologized. “Hahaha~ Oh, sorry Al. I forgot about that. I’ll be sure to give you something for next time.”

“There won’t be a next time.”

She winked, “Don’t count on it.” With that, the woman swayed her hips as she left, a laugh in her lips. The pair finished up the papers and set on putting the rest away for later before heading out to their Superior’s office. “I hope we end this soon. I can’t stand any more overtime.” Eric hummed in agreement, though concern soon spread in his handsome face. “Ye alright, Al? Ta thorns ain’t botherin’ ye?” Said man smiled warmly. “Not anymore than usual. Thanks for the concern.” William’s door came into view.

Grell took the elevator to the first floor, easily spotting Ronald right where Alan had told her he would be. She internally smirked, noticing that the girl was Amber, the one she had advised some weeks ago. Also, were those the lilies from Mary Ann’s shop? She sniggered, remembering the elder’s comment on how her junior was resorting to her shop more than usual.

“Oh Romeo, your cruel mentor has come to take thee away from your Juliet on behalf of the Cold Ice King. He wishes for your presence.” She called, wrapping an arm around the boy’s shoulders; to which he flinched in surprise. “S-senpai! When’d ya get back?” Grell flashed them both a smile, showing off her razor teeth. “That’s not important at the moment.” She pulled him by the arm, turning to face the girl. “I’ll send him back once Mr. Spears is finished with him. I’ll also make sure your lover comes back in one piece, darling.” With a wink, and a blush in Ronald’s behalf (and the girl’s, though there was still an embarrassed smile on her face), the duo sprinted off and into the Superior’s office, where the three other Reapers awaited.

“William, we’re back.” She sang, letting go of the boy’s arm and taking a seat on top of the raven Reaper’s desk. “I trust you read what I brought?” He nodded, adjusting his spectacles with his Death Scythe. “Of course. We shall brief the others right now.” Grell nodded, cleared her throat, and began.

“Alright. We begin with the fact that the corpses don’t have souls at the time of collection. This only means that some supernatural creature has been taking them. Upon research, I discovered that it may be caused by a Necromancer; a human with a soul so strong, they can revive the dead. Then, there is the Aurora Society in London, lead by a Doctor, Rian Stoker. They are said to bring the dead back to life, and as such, are the only suspects available. I went all the way to Matlock, following the trail of one of their experiments.” Well, only the last part was a lie, but she wasn’t about to reveal she was a Deathling - not just yet anyway.

“Then, what are we to do Senpai?” 

“Today’s papers announced that they would be leaving the country on the Blue Star line transatlantic 'Campania'. I think the rest of the planning is up to Willy.” All sets of eyes turned to him. His glassed were once again adjusted with the edge of his scythe. “Honestly, it’s rather obvious that I’m sending Miss Sutcliff and Mr. Knox over to investigate. They shall capture these ‘Necromancers’, eliminate their means of performing the rituals involved, and - should they perish, collect their Cinematic Records.” They all nodded, but Grell, who seemed to have something on her mind. “And if they don’t die?”

“I know we are not supposed to meddle, unless there is a valid excuse. I think there is no excuse more valid than this.”

“D’ye mean they’re gonna kill ‘em?” Eric asked, surprised by the answer. That was against the rules: Never kill a human not on the To-Die List. William T. Spears never broke the rules, and he severely punished anyone who did. Grell’s punishment from the Jack the Ripper incident was proof enough of that.

“It honestly doesn’t please me, but it is for the best for the humans and ourselves. They upset the balance that we struggle to keep, it would be unwise to let them live and continue their activities. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.” They chorused. Nodding firmly, William went back to his desk. “Mr. Humphries and Mr. Slingsby, your part is to search for any suspicious corpses around London and dispose of them.”

There was a brief nod of agreement, and William kept talking. “Return to your activities. Mr. Knox, I believe you are due to collect a few souls within ten minutes; as for Mr. Slingsby and Mr. Humphries, I need your reports filed in by the end of the shift.” Everyone scrambled away to do as instructed, leaving only Grell and William in the office.

“Sutcliff, fancy a cup of tea?” He offered, getting up to obtain the teapot and cups in the corner. Her astonishment was evident in her voice, “Um… sure.” Wordlessly, he served a smooth blend in white china with a pigeon print on a side. “Sugar and cream?”

“Only a bit, darling. Thank you.” She was handed the steaming beverage, and blew on it before taking a sip. Perfect! Just how I like it. “Honestly, I wanted to discuss something with you.” Ah, there it was, the real reason he let her stay. “Yes, what would that be?” Came the query, casually asked, though on the inside she was itching with curiosity. The ravenette took a seat, drinking his tea. “How did you do it? How did you realize that you couldn’t stand being yourself, and decide to change? How aren’t you afraid to show your emotions so openly?” There, he said it. It cost him his courage, but if Grell could do it, then by Death so could he.

The redhead regarded him carefully. “Where did all this come from, Will? Are you alright?” He sighed. “I am well, thank you.” An unbelieving look came from her face, and he sighed again. “I’ve been told that I am cold, even heartless at times. I know I am strict, as I should be for this position, but Mr. Knox and other people at the office are correct; I need to learn to relax and express myself more freely - at least out of work. My existence has become monotonous, and despairingly lonely.”

A soft smile spread on her face at his confession. “Well, admitting you have to change is a good start, darling. Do you promise that what we talk about next will never leave this office?” He nodded. “I promise.” 

“Good.” A sip of her tea. “This is something you come to realize it on your own. I can’t tell you that part, but I can say that I’m willing to help you with what you need, dear. It has to be your decision to change, not anyone else’s. You can only change if you so wish it and are willing to go through with it.” She paused, making sure to gaze into his Reaper eyes, to know he was understanding. “As for showing emotions, one has to understand that they are nothing to be ashamed of; you feel what you feel, and people can’t say anything to you because of that. Once you realize that there is nothing to be afraid of, then there’s nothing holding you back.”

“But our jobs-”

“Don’t control us.” She intervened, a serious tone in her voice. “They cannot dictate what we feel. It only requires us to be careful when Reaping. Whoever thought up the title ‘Grim Reaper’ was wrong. And even if you decide to be so stoic during work, it doesn’t mean you can’t show your emotions out of it. Work isn’t everything to your life.”

“And how do I do that, Sutcliff? I was never one to socialize very well. It is a skill that I lack, unless it is about our jobs.” Another comforting smile was thrown his way. “You can start by calling us by our names. No titles, no surnames, it makes it more personal. Talk with someone about something silly, or mindless out of work. Come to me if you want, I’m willing to help, as I already said. You just need practice, darling.” She drank the last bit of the beverage, setting the cup on the small platter.

“Let yourself think freely, especially when you’re alone.” The redhead stood, “I should be going now, I’ve been dying to reap a few souls. Talk to me, when you need it. I know what it’s like to need, but not have. I’ll be there.” She swayed over to the door, leaving him stunned.

“Grell.”

She turned to face him. “Yes, darling?”

“Thank you.” A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “You are not what you seem, and I am glad to know you consider me a friend.” A soft blush covered her face. “You’re welcome, darling. I hope you consider me yours, too.” He nodded, not knowing how to express all that was going on in his head. She left, and took to the Mortal Realm.

The air was chilly, and the night young. What a lovely setting for her date with death - she surely would enjoy the dance and the thrill of collecting the Records; she was sure her love would not disappoint. Alas her Ledger was almost cleared by the time the clock struck ten. Staring down at the last soul, Grell decided that it was time to head home. 

Her delightful task was not yet finished, and she’d left it alone for far too long already. Grinning, her last soul was dispatched and she walked over to the Big Ben; idle thoughts of the Charon ferrying them through the River and to the Marsh flowing through her mind. Flashing images of falling down the waterfall and landing before a door appeared alongside those, and made her wonder. Made her wonder of her own fate. Being a Reaper was a punishment for taking one’s life as a human. That would mean that she herself - and all the other Reapers - had already been through one of the Rivers! She had been ferried by one of the Charon that cheered for her or Thanatos when they raced, had paid them a Danake, they had given her a key, and she had fallen through that very waterfall, landing before a door that would lead her to her destiny.

Immersed in those thoughts, she mused on the reason why she was so different from other Reapers. She was literally born, her mother had given birth to her, when most of her kin simply took a new form. I’ll have to ask Osiris, he might know… It was no use to dwell on answerless questions. Not when there were other more important things at the moment.

But that didn’t mean that new queries wouldn’t arise. There was a passing notion of where her father’s soul may have gone after his death. He was a Deathling, so he was even closer knit to the actual Death than any of the Reapers (or Harvesters, as the Deathlings called them). Osiris had to know, so maybe she’d also ask him about that. A sudden emptiness filled her heart, and tears pricked her eyes. She sniffed, breathing deep. This was something she hadn’t faced since her beloved father’s passing, and every negative emotion soon began to surface.

Deciding to portal then and there, Grell found herself in her room. Madam Red’s trench was thrown onto the bed, along with her waistcoat. Arm garters, shoes and pants were removed. The striped ribbon was tied on her hair and the first buttons of her shirt were popped open. Desperately, her tools were scattered, and she picked up her phone, dialing the one number she hadn’t since before her Academy days.

Ring. Ring. Rin-

“Bonne nuit, qui est-ce?”

“Mama? It’s Grell.” She awaited, hoping to be heard. There was a pause, a sigh came from the other side of the line. She cringed, already hearing the screams.

“Grell? Ma petite fille?” The redhead exhaled in disbelief. “Oui mama! C’est moi. It’s your girl.” Still stunned, she confirmed, unable to comprehend that she wasn’t being pushed away. 

“Oh, my lovely, it’s been so long! How have you been? What’s going on? I’ve been so worried about you!” A few tears slipped by unacknowledged. “I’ve been alright, I thought… I thought you didn’t want to see me. I’m sorry I haven’t talked.”

“Never believe that, my dear. Je suis ta mère, I’ll always love you. Now tell me, there is something on your mind - what is it?” Laughing humorlessly, she sniffed to hold back tears. “Hehe~ You always knew when something was wrong.”

“Je suis ta mère, I simply know those things.”

“I want to speak about Vater.” There was a sharp intake of breath from the mother as the words were rushed out.

“What about your father?” Grell picked the sandpaper, gnawing on her lower lip, gathering her thoughts and straightening them out in her head. 

“You know how he was a Deathling and all that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've seen various headcanons that have Grell be from a French family, and others from a German. I decided to have her be from both of those.


	15. The Ship, Campania

The night was cold, but it was the enjoyable sort where one only needed the company of a thick jacket and not much else. Stars shone brightly, and frivolous music played in the background. It was quite the beauty, that night. It made him grin at the thought of what was about to transpire. 

Such a shame he didn’t get his wish of being graced with her presence one last time, alas he knew he’d move on. He had more pressing matters at hand - and he knew he’d one day meet her again. Though as he walked through the halls to the room where the event would be taking place in, he couldn’t help but wonder if had things been different - had he convinced her to leave the Dispatch before this- then perhaps she might be here at his side. A grin split his face, and with a shake of his head he pushed the thought out of his mind. Such a silly thought to think - especially at a time like this. He hadn’t cared much for her before now, so why think of that? Besides, she cared far too much for another to even consider his would-be proposal. Not that he would have risked exposure by asking such a thing, but it was a strangely comforting thought to think she had accepted. Oh great. He wanted to smack himself over the head. Was he really having a childish crush on her? How ridiculous of him. 

However, the sight of the little Earl and the uptight butler doing ‘The Phoenix’ pose distracted him from those dangerous thoughts. For all he was worth, he laughed, letting tears and drool drip down his face. The pair’s dumbfounded expressions only served to amuse him further. He heard the boy cuse, and Sebastian scolding him slightly before addressing him. “Moreover, what are you doing here?” He giggled, “My job. The Hospital is a regular customer of mine.” After a short explanation of the duo's affairs on the ship, he slipped away without a sound. The show was about to begin.

 

Grell grinned as she and Ronald strode around the ship, looking for this Ryan Stoker and the Undertaker. It wasn’t until quite later that she found the brown-haired man; flipped him off the railings, without letting him fall.

“Found you~ Hottie~” She gave a slasher smile at his perturbed, upside down expression. Quite handsome indeed. “Now, be a dear and tell me, how do I turn them off?” he stumbled adorably on his words, unable to form coherent sentences. “T-the m-m-machine! The machine turns them off!” She hauled him up, pulling him to his feet and keeping a firm hand in his shoulder. “Well then, lead the way, darling.” A shiver went down his spine, and he nodded, eager to do her bidding for fear of his life. 

“Come on, we don’t have all night! We have other jobs to do so hurry’t up, mate!” Ronald piped in, making the man flinch before picking up his pace. The trio walked around searching for Ryan’s room. It wasn’t long before they found it, but the machine was nowhere to be seen.

“I-I swear it was here! Someone must’ve taken it!” Dragging him by his tie, Ronald gave him a lazy smirk, “Then find it.” His irritation was clear, and that was something that the youngster hardly ever showed. Nodding in apprehension, they set out once more. 

Merely a few minutes later, they encountered Aleister Chamber, as well as Sebastian, Ciel and the Undertaker, talking about some Empire that the blonde would build, and how he should be called the ‘Caesar’. The reapers exchanged dry looks, huffing at how pathetic it all was. And one wouldn't be able to imagine their annoyance levels when they were once again forced to perform the ridiculous ‘Phoenix’ pose. It took some restraint on all their behalfs, but finally it was Grell who snapped first, revving her Death Scythe into motion, lifting it over her head to aim for the Viscount. 

Suddenly, her attack was stopped by a figure in black with silver hair, long bony hand latched to a Death Marker, while the other took hold of a tall top-hat. 

“My dear, he’s quite an entertaining man, we can’t have him die just yet.” His voice cracked with giggles and mad laughter at the way her eyes opened. That surely wasn’t his Death Scythe! Her chainsaw should’ve cut right through it! An all out war ignited between them in that second. 

It was the Rogue Reaper against the others, against the Demon - and the humans in the middle. Harsh blows were exchanged between all; adrenaline high. Each one fought for their own motives, uncaring of the other parties. There indeed was no time to do so.

“Ronnie! The machine!” the command had to be yelled over the action, and even the pulse in his ears made it hard to understand. Still, he internally agreed that his mentor was stronger, and let her take over. He was short of the contraption, but a red blur smashed into him before he could reach it, tumbling them both down to the floor in a heap. He groaned in pain, shifting his weight to stand. Beside him lay Grell, a gash above her right eye, bleeding heavily, and another on her chest. “Sempai? Are you alright?” He extended her a hand, heaving her to her feet. Thankfully for them, Undertaker was too preoccupied with shoving his Death Scythe on Sebastian’s back and examining his record to care about them at the moment.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just bruised.” Her eyes kept stealing glances at the Cinematic Record, seeing flashes of the Demon’s life as Sebastian. “Turn it off.” His nod went unseen, as she was thinking on how to drag the Undertaker’s pretty ass to the Deathling Realm. Though the record was distracting. Was he really him? She’d been suspicious of it since the reveal of Jack the Ripper, and it constantly nagged at her mind. On more than one occasion she had been ready to tear her own Scythe through him in a manner not unlike what Undertaker was doing.

“Sempai! It won’t turn off! What do I do?” That broke her out of her thoughts. Right, the machine. “Just break it, Ronald! I’ll get Undertaker.” He readied his scythe, crashing it to the horrid contraption. Sparks flew as he did it again and again, the metal bending, the system failing.

Meanwhile, Undertaker was done with Sebastian’s record, but Grell was just about to begin her assault. Her scythe whirred as the blades rotated, the metal catching the flickering lights.

“It’s not nice to attack someone like that, m’lady.” He ducked her attack, using his own weapon to avoid it. “It’s not nice to wake the dead from their sleep and have others work overtime.” A laugh escaped from him at the comeback, but she honestly wasn’t surprised. “You see, we work so hard to kill them these days, and you bringing them back like this causes a big amount of trouble for everyone but you. Please refrain from struggling, Undertaker, I’m not going to be merciful if you do.” Their dance continued. Attack, evade, asses the situation, repeat. There was a beat to it, as if they were moving to their own music; a deadly waltz which they danced. 

The Bizarre Dolls lay slumped on the ground around them. The machine itself was crumpled to a pile of metal and wires that sparked sporadically. Everything around them seemed to vanish; and for a minute, they were alone in the ship, fighting for dominance. For the Undertaker, this was entirely too much fun. He hadn’t been in a real fight in ages - probably since he got his scars escaping from the Dispatch- and this redheaded agent was giving him the best in his life. Well… she was inexperienced, compared to him, but it was highly entertaining nonetheless. He simply had to laugh. She was fierce, her aim deadly, her strength passionate, and her eyes burning with a fire of determination. She had found him out after all. How fun.

“If you’re quite done yet, I’ve got more important places to be, lovely.” He smiled eerily, knowing that his dismissal of her -actually efficient- efforts would be taken as an insult. Oh, he loved to watch those pretty eyes burn. Alas, at the moment, they were not. The fire had calmed, and instead, a cold washed over them, accompanied by a sinister smile. 

“I don’t think so, darling. I’m not done with you yet.” He swore she was the Cheshire’s reincarnate. Her strikes became more calculated, and her fury was controlled into her attacks. The game began anew, but now, there were others willing to claim the prize. Sebastian and Ronald were back. 

That however was of no concern to the Undertaker. Though after a few minutes of that, his belt of lockets came loose, falling into the hands of the little Earl Phantomhive. A positively surprised look came over his face. Everyone that had been precious to him once was there. Everyone that once mattered, the rare few that had made their way into his dead heart. And they slipped, just out of his grasp. It was a bit of a relief, knowing that Ciel had caught them, and not the Reapers, nor had it gotten lost in the raging sea.

“Care for it, little Earl. It’s my treasure.” He smiled gently, raising his scythe above his head before swinging it down with mighty force, creating a portal to take him away, and splitting the ship clean in half. The blast from the energy that was released from the portal pushed them all back. The pair of Reapers flew into the icy waters, while Sebastian caught his master, safely taking him back to one of the life-boats.

Reaching the surface, Grell and Ronald panted for unneeded breaths. Already they could feel the cold creeping onto their bodies, slowly impeding their movements. They swam up to a floating slab of ice, where they miraculously pulled themselves onto. “This… was jinxed by… by your romance novels. I-I swear it. A-and it was t-tragic t-t-too.” Grell could hardly move, but that made her giggle. “W-what? Are you s-serious?” They were both exhausted, and they knew they had failed. At least, they were not alone.

“Thanks, Ronnie.” 

“S-same, Sempai.” A calm quiet enveloped the pair as they regained their composure, as drained as it might have been. 

“When is W-William Sempai g-getting here? I’m freezing my ass off! And I’ve got a date!” Grell opened her arms, inviting the younger to share a hug, and settling them both on the ice. “Is it with Amber?” He shivered, but otherwise enjoyed the warmth they shared. “Uh… no.” She huffed. Well… she lasted more than the others. That has to count for something, right?

“Grell, Ron! Wha’ a’e ye doin’ ‘ere?” Eric stepped out of the portal a few feet away. And right now, that was the best sight of the night. “Eric! Man, g-get us out first! Questions later.” Seeing the state of them both, he went over and pulled Ronald to his feet. He eagerly leapt through the portal, knowing that the other two would follow. Seeing that Grell still wasn’t up, Eric stretched out his hand. “Let's go home, Red.” But she did not move.

“Red? Ye alright?” She shook her head, a hand pressing her chest, where now he could see blood seeping through the fabric. “I-It’s worse than I t-thought. Help me.” He immediately picked her up, mindful of the gash and rushed through the portal. 

“Alan! Call Doctor Seward! Get him right now!” The poor Reaper could only leap and do as his partner asked, watching as he became a blur with a shivering Grell in his arms. Ronald, who had been sitting in one of the chairs by the heater in Alan’s office, ran into action, following them into the medical wing of the building. Reapers rarely needed Doctors, but he was grateful that the Council hadn't been dumb enough to evict them from their society.

The process of getting the Doctor, sedating the redhead and patching her up had been chaotic, to say the least. The rush they felt made them clumsy. They ran into various others - even amongst themselves, making Grell whine- and the Doctor himself had been called in for another case where an Agent had an unfortunate run-in with a pack of low-level Demons, which of course had him unavailable for a while. Thankfully, the nurses were in a calm state and took charge as soon as Eric placed Grell in the cot. They were a flurry of movement; ripping open the garments covering her chest, applying anesthetic, cleaning, sewing and patching the wound. The three had to be chased out of the room by a rabid nurse, for none dared leave. Eventually they decided that somebody should warn William of the transpired events, but none wanted to be the chosen one. Grudgingly, Ronald agreed - if only because he had been with Grell at the time things had happened and would actually be able to do some explaining.

xX ⌐⌐ Xx

A frantic knock sounded on William’s door, and he sighed. A quick look at his pocket watch told him he was working overtime. Again. A frustrated frown came over his face. Sutcliff and Knox should’ve reported in by now. Why could they never be on time?

“Come in, but do make it quick.” A recognizable youngster stepped in, panting out of breath. It would take him a minute before he could properly speak, so the Supervisor took initiative. “Mr. Knox, how was the mission? I expect everything went well?” But there was doubt. Ronald’s state was proof enough that something had gone wrong. “Grell Sempai’s in the Medical Ward. Undertaker cut her chest with his Scythe, and we thought nothing of it until now! She’s in with Dr. Seward.” The raven-haired jumped to his feet. “Take me to her.” The command was instantly followed, a few papers falling from the desk at their wake.

 

“She’s not awake yet, and the nurses won’t let us in.” Alan said. He sat with a cup of tea in his hand. It was strange for him. Was this what it felt like to have a friend in the hospital? He was used to being the one on the other side of the door, not the one waiting for news on how his friend’s state. It was irritating, and worrisome. It was just as hard to be on this side of the door than on the other; and he hated it. Eric held his hand, but this time it was of little comfort. “We shall wait. There is nothing else we can possibly do.” William’s words were too, of little help. “Ron, mind telling us what went on over there?” The poor boy was lost in thought, staring at the door like a puppy. If he had ears and a tail, they’d both be droopy. 

“Oh, did you say something?” He turned to face them, and they knew he had shed a few tears. “Yes. Please inform us of tonight’s events. That way, we can have that ready while Sutcliff wakes up.” Sniffing, he began the story, careful to omit a few things - like his flirtations with the humans- and be entirely too graphical on other points - case being, the outrageousness of the living corpses. The others waited politely, hardly interrupting his tale. 

“So he got away?” Ronald nodded. “Yeah. He’s a freaking legend for something. I mean, he even got to see the Demon’s records, put us out of commission, and break the whole thing in half! And he was only playing with us!” He was pacing, frustration evidently steaming out of his system. “Do you know where he might be now?” Alan asked from his spot, extending a styrofoam cup filled with chamomile tea to the upset youngster. It was gratefully taken and drowned within seconds. “Not a clue. But he left something behind. Something important. The boy and his pet Demon have it with them, so I think Undertaker will be back for it eventually. It’s his ‘treasure’ after all.” 

Alan stood, dusting down his pants. “Well, I need to fetch my medicines from my flat. I’m due in about quarter of an hour. Call me when Grell wakes up.” William nodded, and Ronald went back to guarding the door. Eric too stood, said his goodbyes and left with the smaller Reaper on his side. 

Not long after their departure, the door opened, revealing Dr. Seward’s muscled form. “The surgery is finished. He will not wake soon, but everything went well. You can come in for a few minutes.” Sighing in relief, the two gently opened the door, the lights flooding their sight. Ronald was the first to be by the bedside, taking his mentor’s surprisingly delicate hands in his own. William stood by the other side, also holding Grell’s hand. “What now, boss? What do we do?” 

“We wait, and try again. I have a feeling Grell won’t give up on this mission easily.” A ghost of a smile crept onto his face at the thought of Grell waking up in a rampage, and then tracking down the Undertaker and dragging him back to the Dispatch to present him before the Council. “I’m sure. She’ll throw a fit once she wakes. Say how that wasn’t any way to treat a lady like her.” 

“I’m sure you’re right. For now, we shall let her rest. We’ll discuss these matters later.” He pat her hand, and made for the door. His subordinate soon followed, turning off the lights as he went. The door swung shut, barely making a sound. 

Grell had been awake. The anesthetic didn’t last long in her system, and the wound was already in its final stages of healing. There were a few perks to being a Deathling. The main one being that now, even a Reaper’s Death Scythe wouldn’t kill her. She was still adapting to this new form, how it combined itself with her body, and was pleased that it had been taken in as it should’ve. She estimated she’d be back to normal in a few hours, so she had until then to think up of something. Think of other things than the ‘I failed the Kings and let him get away’ and the classic ‘I’m a failure, I couldn’t stop him’ thoughts of defeat. Now was not the time, and she was a Commander of the Deathlings, a most powerful being. 

‘Powerful? Undertaker is powerful, you’re just a girl trying to fill your father’s too big shoes.’ She frowned. How she hated herself sometimes. 

‘Not true! I earned that power! It is mine, and I failed this time. By Death it will not happen again!’

‘Are you sure? You’re quite the screw up.’ Taunting voices rang in her head. Even if she was a Commander, even with all that power, he still got away.

‘I’m stubborn, I won’t let him beat me! Now shut up or be useful. We don’t have time to waste.’ She managed to rein in her thoughts and direct them to another place. It wasn’t always easy, because the lies she told herself were always based on a truth, and they were oh so easy to believe. But she was through with that. She’d learned that her mistakes were lessons, and right now, she had just learnt a new one.

“You better watch yourself, Undertaker. I won’t be defeated so easily next time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got to the reveal of Undertaker’s plan, yay! The Campania arc wasn’t really like this, but then, it’s fanfic. I hope it went well and you've enjoyed the story. Also, anyone get the Dr. Seward reference? I thought it’d be a cool addition for those who got it.
> 
> Thank you for commenting and leaving Kudos, I absolutely love you for it!


	16. Unlikely Events

“Are you sure? You were wounded from a Death Scythe a week ago, you needed surgery! Get back to the bed this instant! I will not have you running around injured!” She sighed at William’s words. In truth, she’s been healed by the next day, but everyone else insisted she rest - especially her Supervisor. “Will, I’m fine now, honestly. I feel great. Besides, I won’t be doing any hard labour. I’m just looking for leads on the Undertaker through the town.” Shrugging, Grell picked her coat and shoes. He sighed in defeat, knowing he couldn’t convince her otherwise.

“I was just concerned.” William adjusted his glasses and used his free hand to hand her a ribbon so she could tie her hair. An eyebrow was raised questioningly. “Concerned for me, darling?” There was a suspicious tone to her voice, and it was then that he knew, he set himself in her trap. “Do not turn this into one of your flirtations, Sutcliff. I was merely concerned for the well-being of a… co worker.” She giggled. “That was too easy, Will. And I thought we were friends, no need to be formal. It’s okay to be concerned for someone you care about.” He fidgeted uncomfortably. “I didn’t want to make it seem like I harboured any romantic feelings, as you are prone to believing, because I don’t.”

“I know you don’t. I was just teasing. Friends do that sometimes, you can even tease me back if you’d like; but if it really makes you that uncomfortable, then I’ll stop.” William sighed in relief. Maybe then he’d be able to sort out his own feelings about her. “Thank you, Grell. Be careful out there, and return if something does come up. I don’t want you going after him alone.” She nodded, finishing tying off her hair. “I’ll be alright, Willy.” The redhead placed a quick kiss to his cheek, leaving him stunned, before portaling to the mortal realm.

xX ⌐⌐ Xx

The Phantomhive manor looked splendid - as it always did thanks to the care that Sebastian provided. She took her time walking around the gardens, before the Demon Hound showed up, basting fire all over. Surprised, but unperturbed, Grell kept walking towards it. 

“Bring me to your master, Pluto. I have pertinent business with him.” The dog whimpered, sensing the deathly aura of this otherworldly being. His head and ears lowered, he showed her to the mansion’s back door, where Sebastian was busy replanting a few trees that Finnian had uprooted.

“Oh Ba~ssy! Hello my darling!” She cheered with enthusiasm. It was always so fun to mess with the handsome demon. Sebastian turned to face her, his face as cold as ever. “Grell Sutcliff, do what do I owe this pleasantry?” His reply came as a drone, with his face as dry as ever. She jumped onto one of the nearby benches. “I’ve come to talk with your master, of course.” His head shot up, a small speck of fear creeping into his being as he remembered the day when she almost defeated him. “What do you need of him?” She grinned. “You’ll just have to wait to find out.” She winked, walking past him and into the mansion. 

The other servants had apparently gone out, for they were nowhere near. Ignoring the fact that Sebastian was following her, she kept going until she entered the Earl’s study. “Good morning, brat. You and I have business, right now.” Startled, he let out a gasp. “S-Sebastian! Get rid of him this instant. I can’t be bothered with his foolishness!” Said Demon was about to do as ordered when Grell brought out her Death Scythe, roaring to life as she pointed it at the child.

“You will, if you want to capture the Undertaker.”

They went still. She sent them her slasher smile. “You know he’s not going to stop making those ‘Bizarre Dolls’ of his, and the Queen won’t be pleased to have those here. I know of a way in which we could lure him out.” She vanished her Scythe, knowing there wasn’t an imminent need for it at the moment.

Frowning questioningly, he asked, “And how do you expect to do that? He beat us all last time.”

“I know that. And I also know things about him that you don’t, brat. So you can either handle his toys, because we all know that even your pet can’t take him - or you can let me and the other Reapers handle him.”

Ciel sighed, accepting the fact with poise. “What is it that you propose?” Grell took a seat on his desk. “Derrick Arden in Weston College died. Alan was assigned to reap him a few days ago, but his soul was apparently tampered with. The Queen is sure to be sending you a letter about her concerns. I suggest going over there do what you do to appease her. Undertaker is sure to appear at some point, he won’t be able to resist doing something against our dear Bassy over here. When he shows himself, leave him to me.” The child didn’t look convinced. 

“Why would he come out?” He asked, challenging her methods. 

“Do you still not get it, brat?” Grell chided, grinning, “He will come out, because you and your puppy will make him. You have something of his, a ‘treasure’, I believe he called it. Undertaker will have to come claim it. Figure out the death of Derrick Arden, and Undertaker will show his face.”

The Demon and child pair exchanged a look. It might work, it might be possible, and they could come out of it alive. “Do you guarantee he will be there?”

“Do you know of any other Reaper running around rampant through the world making those dolls that enjoys toying with you and wants to fit you for a coffin, at any given chance?” She shot back, a deadpan tone in her voice. Ciel sighed. “You do have a point. Sebastian, bring the Undertaker’s lockets and give them to the red menace. If we encounter the Undertaker I don’t want him to attack us. Giving it to the Reapers should allow us enough time to distract him and leave. He won’t suspect we don’t have it.” Sebastian made a curt bow, and left the room to retrieve the item in question. He returned shortly, the lockets in hand.

“Here it is, Young Master.” Ciel received it, but made no attempt to give it to the Reaper. He signaled Sebastian to fetch them tea and something sweet. The conversation was not over yet. The butler left the room.

“I want to guarantee the capture of the Undertaker. He escaped once before, how am I sure you will be successful, when you so clearly lost last time?” 

“Because this time, we have an advantage. These lockets to him are important, I can tell at least one of them is from a past lover. He wouldn’t give it up easily. I’ve also gained new contacts, if you will, that can help on the case. We’ll get him, I promise you.” Ciel nodded, satisfied for the moment, yet there was another thought nagging at his mind. “On another note, what did Undertaker mean when he said he wished to preserve - to save- my soul?”

Grell gazed at him curiously. “This proves how much of a child you are. You don’t understand this, right?” His brows furrowed, his usually stoic face turning into a frown. “Explain yourself, and do not belittle me as such.” She giggled. “You certainly are naive at times, brat. If Undertaker killed you, and reaped your soul just then, Bassy wouldn’t be able to devour it, as he sorely wishes to. Your soul would be saved, though you’d most likely be punished by the Divine. It would still be better than being consumed, and the possibility to see your parents would actually exist then. Of course, as a child your mind is filled with ideas of revenge, so you don’t fully comprehend his motives - you are a human, after all.”

The boy grumbled. Now that he had more information, he did understand. He was comprehending everything, and the notion that there had perhaps been a chance of meeting again with his parents was lost because of the deal was - not that he’d ever admit it aloud- heartbreaking. He felt something inside him shattering. All the things he’d done for revenge, all the things he had done to humiliate those who had hurt him - they were worth nothing, in the end. Loath to accept it, Grell was right. 

She saw the emotions passing through his eye - the hurt, the pain, the resentment, the anger, and the bitter guilt. “There is nothing to be done about it now. I gave my word to him, and we have a contract to maintain.” His emotions were reeled back, as Grell had predicted, but he had let them show, and she knew this was exactly what she needed.

“Words don’t mean anything from beings like them. They lie perpetually, not to be trusted. Demons are selfish, they’ll do anything to get what they want. You still have a chance to be saved.” Ciel didn’t want to believe her words. The brought hopes, and hopes brought expectations, and expectations brought disappointments, which would then lead to resentment and hate - not that he didn’t already feel those particular emotions, but they would bring a new sort of pain he was not willing to deal with.

“There are things that once lost, can never be regained again. My soul is one of them.” He stated simply. She huffed at his pessimism. “With an attitude like that no doubt. Lucky for you, I made a promise I can’t break.” His eyebrow raised in a silent question, doubt spilling in his mind. “I promised Angelina to save your soul, as much as I dislike you, brat. It is a promise I will keep.” Now Ciel was truly surprised, but he couldn’t let himself be fooled. “How do you intend to do that?”

“A Death God such as me has her ways.” Came her simple answer. “You just make sure to stay alive, I’ll handle the rest.” She winked and stood from her perch on his desk. Her beloved coat was dusted off, and she was about to leave.

“Why?” She stopped at the window. 

“Why would you help me?” He asked again, the so perfectly formed mask cracking the slightest.

“Because I once made a promise to someone I loved. She saved me, but condemned me, just like I have done to her. Anne deserves one last bit of kindness from me, and a Death God’s word holds for eternity, Ciel. She loved you like her own son, the one she never got to have. You were all she had, all she ever truly loved.”

The boy nodded. “Then I shall be careful in my endeavours. Aunt Anne deserves that at least from me.” His expression went back to the usual stoic facade, but Grell knew that to be his normal face, and left it at that. “She deserves to have you back, let's not disappoint her.” A final nod was shared between the unlikely allies before she was out the window just as Sebastian rolled in a cart with warm tea and fresh biscuits.

“So long, dearest Bassy! Parting is such sweet sorrow, though we shall meet again, my love!” Sniggering, she blew him a flirty kiss, thoroughly enjoying the way he shivered in disgust and pretended not to be affected. Messing with handsome Demons is such fun! I hope I’ll see the full record one day! The redhaired flirt took her leave, heading back to the Reaper Realm.

xX ⌐⌐ Xx

The other Reapers in the office stopped their tasks to look up at Grell as she strolled in. She herself stopped walking. What could they want? 

Their murmurs started anew as she walked past. Snippets of their conversations got to her ears, yet she hardly understood any of it. Alan was filing a few folders nearby, so she went up to him.

“Hello Alan.” He looked up from his work, slightly startled. “Oh, Grell. Hello. How was your trip?” A few other files were picked up and the pair left. “It went well thank you. I got just what we needed. Do you by any chance know what they’re talking about?” Alan let out a laugh.

“They’re talking about you, what else. Anything you do seems to be a controversy for them. This time it’s about what happened at the Campania. Everyone’s curious, though this time it’s mostly good things.” That at least was reassuring. “Well, I just want to put that behind me. It was Ronnie, Sebastian and me against him, we didn’t even scratch the man!” The brunette smiled, having nothing to say other than, “He is a legend after all.” Grell huffed, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. “Legends, pfft. I’ll show him!” No one messes with me like that! I’ll get him for sure. The duo walked over to their respective offices, but Grell left hers after searching for the papers she would need for her meeting with William.

xX ⌐⌐ Xx

“Sutcliff, surprisingly on time.”

“Is that sarcasm I hear in your voice, Willy?”

“You know I do not joke, Grell. But you are known to be on time if there is something of interest to you.” They shared warm smiles, though William’s was more awkward rather than warm - still, the sentiment was there. “You’re getting better, Mr. Spears.”

“All due to your help, Miss Sutcliff. Enough of the pleasantries for now, we have important matters to attend.”

“Oh yes, they demand our immediate attention. I found what I was looking for.” The chain of lockets was extracted from her coat’s pocket and set on the desk. “Undertaker’s treasure. Got it back from Ciel Phantomhive, it’s still intact.” William took the fragile looking object delicately. “You went over to see the Demon, for this!?” 

Sensing his growing anger, Grell was quick to appease. “Don’t degrade its importance. It’s more valuable than you think.” The Supervisor was not satisfied. “Grell, I don’t care for that. You’re yet to fully recover from a deadly wound, by a Death Scythe no less! You shouldn’t be going on about facing Demons and such! You’re of no use if you’re dead, Sutcliff!” He slammed his hands on the desk, a booming sound echoing from the impact. Grell shied away. Though she was used to having William yell at her, he had never done it with angry concern for her well being. “Will -”

“Pardon my outburst.” He adjusted his glasses, a nervous habit he never got rid of. “You must understand that I’ve never been good with relationships. I didn’t mean to offend your prowess in battle, but you are hurt, and I do not wish to see you injured any further. Much less by such lowly beings as them.” A smile crept onto her lips.

“Darling, it’s alright. It’s okay to be worried, there’s nothing wrong with showing it.” Her arms embraced him, and he stiffened, though did not push away. “I knew Sebastian wouldn’t harm me, the brat would prevent it, and he is getting weak from the lack of sustenance, even if he dreads admitting it. The lockets, trust me, are more important than you think, so I risked getting them.” William returned the hug awkwardly, unused to gentle physical contact. “At least you’re fine now.” He drew a breath, Grell always knew how to make his emotions boil over - good or bad.

“Is there anything else I should know about your plans?” The fact that I’m a Commander for the King of Death’s Army, but~ I’m not supposed to say that just yet, if at all. “No, nothing. The plan remains as it was. Once Ciel and Bassy draw out the Undertaker we appear and get him.” William nodded. “So it seems. What Agents do you think will be needed for the task?”

Grell stood stunned. The cold supervisor never asked for her opinion on important matters. “You’re asking me?” Her incredulous tone provoked a slight smirk on the other’s lips. “Of course. You are a competent Reaper in this area, and it is your plan after all. I thought you should see it through completely.”

“So I’m not competent in other areas?” She questioned, eyebrow raised. He mentally facepalmed. “Honestly, is this all you got from that?” 

“It stuck out, yes.”

“Let me rephrase: It is your best area.” She smiled cheekily. “I know. I was only teasing. As cold as you may be, we both know I’m an excellent Reaper when I want to be.”

“Which was hardly ever.” He pointed out. “Alright, alright. Enough with you teasing me, don’t abuse your friend privilege.” At the moment, they shared a laugh, William becoming slowly more open to their situation. Grell was aimable past her flamboyant and eccentric exterior, easily coaxing his softer side when they were alone. 

“And I want Alan, Eric, Ronnie and you on the team. The less people involved in this the better.” She said after their chuckles subsided. “I am inclined to agree. I shall inform the others, and have them ready by the time Undertaker appears, which I assume will be within a few days.” 

“Correct. I better get filing the documents. After that I’ve got a few reaps, but I’ll keep you posted on the Undertaker situation with the brat and his Demon.” William dismissed her with a curt nod and thanks.

xX ⌐⌐ Xx

The clock struck nine just as the redhead landed on the door of her previous Mistress’ mansion. “You are late, Reaper.” Ciel stood alone, coming from the shadows. “I had to make sure I was alone, no one can know about our deal.” The pair went into the house, firmly closing the door. “Fancy a game of chess?” Grell declined. “As fun as that would be, I’m afraid I’m no better than Anne at the game. Your victory would be too easy and boring - hardly a victory at all.” They sat in the parlour in silence, not knowing how to proceed. It stayed like this for what seemed an eternity. Ciel was the first to break the ice. 

“How would you go about saving my soul? Killing me? Is that what you intend to do right now?” He made no motion to contact his pet Demon, though Grell stayed alert. “No, quite the opposite. I want you to live. For that blond friend of yours, for your servants; for the people that depend on you. That’s what Anne wanted. She wanted you to live - and for you to live, Sebastian must die.”

“So all of this, is for my aunt?” 

“I may have killed her, but I did love her. Perhaps it was that love that made me kill her. Had she not died by my hand, she would’ve died by yours.” Quiet enveloped the pair once more, each reminiscing about the Jack the Ripper days. 

“Then, what do you need me for? If you’re going to kill Sebastian, why come to me?”

“Sebastian is bound to you, wherever you are, he will be. Once you’ve achieved your goal -”

“You will know where to find us.”

She smiled, “Exactly. When that revenge of yours comes around, you must tell it to Anne, at her grave. I will figure out the rest.” She ushered him up from his seat and to the door. “Sebastian will be here soon. I promise you, Ciel Phantomhive, your soul will be spared from being devoured, but any punishment after that belongs solely to you.” A polite goodbye was said and the red Reaper was on her way.

Sebastian, you better take care. I am impatient for our battles, and this time, I will avenge the wrongs you’ve done onto me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the previous chapters had already been written, and in fact posted on my FF. net account, but we have reached to the point where I'm writing the next chapter. Admittedly, it will take me longer to update, seing as I have to write and edit the chapters between schoolwork - good thing that will be over soon. I, as always hope you've enjoyed and wish for you to stick around till the ending of the story.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by Pink's sing 'Perfect'. I have it uploaded in my FF.net account, but also wanted to share it over here. I hope that you like and enjoy it! :)
> 
> As we all know, Kuroshitsuji and its characters belong to Yana Toboso.


End file.
